Project: Aftermath
by Hagar
Summary: Eleven short stories and a novella dealing with civilian life in the Aftermath of being a Ranger. Twelvth story, Adam: to come home one has to leave first.
1. On The Inside

_1. The characters in this story are obviously fictional, but the events are related to reality – though not actually based on it._

_2. Timeline: this story takes place around December 1998, near the end of the first semester._

_3. Timeline II: though it's 1998 in the story, the reality described is more like March/April 1996 or 2002. The more things change…_

_4. This story in "Aftermath" is titled **"On The Inside"**._

_Reviews, as always, are welcome.

* * *

_

_

* * *

_

**Project: Aftermath**

_Trini Kwan_

* * *

_**12:00**_

_Thank god_, thought Trini Kwan, as she packed away her writing-pad, pens and tape recorder. The lecture should have ended 15 minutes ago, but Prof. Stienmatz kept the class after time. Normally, Trini didn't mind it so much when her lecturers stretched the lectures, but today she really, really wanted to be home on time. She shouldered her bag and got up to leave. In her hurry, she bumped into someone.

"Careful, Trini!" said Steffie, smiling.

"Sorry, Steff", Trini apologized. "Guess I just didn't watch were I was going"

"It's okay" the tall brunette said. "Why are you in such a hurry?" she continued, "The next lecture is just across the hall"

"I'm going home now", explained Trini.

"What, you're skipping the rest of the day? Is there anything wrong?"

"No, quite the contrary. It's a friend's birthday, and I want to call her first thing in the morning". Trini laughed at Steff's confusion. "She's a friend from home. It's an eight-hours gap from here to the east coast"

"Oh, right – I only have a single-hour time difference, so I keep forgetting about it"

Trini checked her watch. "Look, Steff, I gotta go, okay? I still have some shopping to do on the way"

"Sure, sure. See you tomorrow!"

"See you!"

_**12:15**_

Trini saw 25 leaving thestop just as she got to Levanon Street. She glanced quickly at the midday traffic and her watch, and decided against waving for the bus to stop. The driver would probably stop – they usually did – but she wasn't in enough hurry to risk being run over.

_And my parents are worried about me being killed in terrorist attack_, she mused as she walked down to the bus stop: another 25 would arrive in no more than 10 minutes. _It's a good thing nobody told them that more people here get killed in road accidents than by terrorists. This way, they're satisfied that I didn't go to HUJI_. The Hebrew University was Trini's first choice; her parents voted it down, claiming that they wouldn't risk their only daughter to Jerusalem. Trini complied. She knew that they were worried enough as it was.

_"Why Israel?" insisted her mother. "Why can't you go to college here, in the US?"_

_"I love Israel, mom", explained Trini patiently._

_"If you want to go somewhere foreign, why not Europe?" asked her dad. "You lived in Europe for a few years, but you've only been to Israel for a week. How do you know that it'd be good for you there?"_

_"Israel is different, dad. I can learn Political Studies anywhere, that's true; but Israel is alive with it."_

And that was it. Her parents' agreement was the only obstacle in her way. Between her collage fund and the scholarship she earned from the Peace Conference, Trini had no financial difficulties, and she was accepted to the Tel-Aviv University easily enough.

Leaving her parents was easier than saying goodbye to her friends – again. Kim cried for days; Jason argued with her for weeks, trying to change her mind, but threw her the best goodbye party ever when he realized that he couldn't change her mind; Billy flew in from Aquitar especially for the party. Of the Old Gang, Zack was the most understanding – but then again, _he_ was headed for Sierra Leon.

The tears and the hugs were behind her now. After four months, Trini was more certain than she had been before: Israel was the place for her.

25 arrived at the stop, and Trini hurriedly fumbled for her monthly pass, while queing with the other passengers. _Be careful where your thoughts take you, Trini Kwan_, she mused, _or you'll miss your stop_.

_**12:30**_

The traffic wasn't as bad as itmight have beenand, twenty minutes later, Trini was not too far from her destination: Dizzengoff Center, her favorite Tel-Aviv shopping spot, comfortably close to the apartment she shared with a second-year Israeli, Shelly.

As a foreign student, Trini was entitled for student's dorms, but she chose to decline. Shefound a 3-room apartment just off the Dizzengoff Center in only two days. The tiny kitchen was a nightmare – Trini admitted that frankly – but her room was spacious, even large, and Shelly was a witty and fun-loving person, who soon became Trini's friend. _What's the point in living in Israel_, argued Trini, _if you didn't hang around with Israelis as much as possible?_

Or so was Trini's official explanation. It was true, of course, but it wasn't the only one. Her deeperreason wasthat the other foreign students were more worried than she was. Other than the diplomats' kids, such as Steff – which were a considerable lot – the foreign students were mostly idealistic young people who believed in Israel's struggle, very much like Trini herself. Like Trini, they knew the risks of Israel, and accepted them. Still, they were too wary for her liking. Having grown up in Angel Grove, where monsters attacked every other day, Trini was not easily scared by suicide bombers – or so she told anyone who asked.

She just couldn't reveal to the other students the secret that shaped her life: once, for one glorious year, Trini Kwan was a Power Ranger, one of the handful of heroes who protected Angel Grove and, indeed, the entire Earth.

_Not glorious_, she thought, laying her head against the window. _Magnificent, yes, but there is no glory in fighting. There're pride, and honor, and great satisfaction, but there is no glory in killing_.

_Kill_ was the world. Eventhough she and her friends, the other Rangers, only used the milder term "destroy", in Trini's mind it was not so. She could not accept the monsters the Rangers foughtas inanimate, or even non-sentient beings. The monsters fought, spoke and had thoughts and feelings, vile as they certainly were. Looking back three years, Trini flinched at the thought of the life she had taken.

Killing the monsters wasn't the worst of it. Trini knew that it was a necessity. She had no doubts that human lives were dearer than the life of a monster. The "lives" of putties were out of question. If only it was enough!

The Power Rangers had fought and killed – nearly ending up killed themselves several times – but it was never enough. People were hurt. People died – no, they didn't merely "_die_": they were murdered, and the murderers only succeeded because Trini and the other Rangers weren't competent enough.

_**12:45**_

The bus was very crowded now. The people stood very close together. Trini gave up her seat a few stops ago, in favor of a small kid who looked fearfully at the much taller and bigger adults around her. The kid was now talking over her cell phone. The Foreign Students' program included intensive Hebrew course, and Trini could make up most of the conversation.

"Yeah, ma, I'm on the way to Dafna's now. No, I caught 25 - it's a whole lot quicker. Yes, I know, mom. I made sure to sit in the back. Sure. Love you. I'll call from Dafna's. Bye"

Trini wasn't sure what to make of the blunt lie. The kid wasn't sitting at the back of the bus – she only said that to calm her mother, having figured that the mother would never know.

_If this girl lived in Angel Grove_, thought Trini, _she would have told her mother that she didn't go to the Park. Kids are kids everywhere: faced with death, they will deny its immediacy. I sure hope that the next generation of Israeli children won't need this ability. I can't stop the monsters, but maybe I can help stop this insanity_.

Sometimes, Trini wanted to yell at people for not realizing the stupidity of it all_. We're all human, can't you see? Rita and Zedd didn't care if we're Christian, Jewish or Muslim. We could all be Pagans, as far as they're concerned. The Machine Empire didn't give a damn about people's political stand, and Divatox couldn't care less about the color of our skin. We're all human for them – why can't we be just human for us, too?_

Her years at the Peace Conference taught her that talking achieved nothing in its own right. Words couldn't change people's hearts in the things that mattered most. If she ever wanted to make a difference, she would have to act. That's why she came to Israel – here, the air was almost glowing with potential: potential to stop the blood cycle, potential to _make it_ _stop_.

Trini jerked up from her thoughts, and quickly pressed the "stop" button. It was almost her stop.

_**13:00**_

There was no queue at the security checkpoint. The security guard checked Trini's bag quickly and efficiently, and let her in with a nod of his head.

The old Center was a maze of corridors, often described as a "rat maze". No matter how well you knew the Center, you still got lost. Trini liked that; it made the Center seem a lot bigger than it really was. _If there's one thing wrong with Israel_, Trini often though, _is that it's too damn small_.

She quickly made her way to the record shop at the lowest floor, next to the cinema. The CD she ordered had arrived almost a week ago, and Trini really wanted to pick it up already.

The guy at the cashier smiled widely when she entered the niche-like shop. "Hi, Trini!" he greeted her; "I was beginning to wonder if maybe you forgot all about Dear Glenn".

"Hi to you too, Ethan. How's it doing?" answered Trini. "Dear Glenn" was Ethan's nickname for all the records she ordered, as most of them were Glenn Gould's.

"Everything's fine", answered Ethan. "How're you?" He passed her the CD – he already knew that Trini took no bags – and she passed him her credit card.

"Everything's fine too", she answered.

"Skipping school today?" he asked jokingly.

"I want to call a friend on the morning of her birthday"

"Just be careful not to wake her up, I don't think she'd appreciate it"

"I'll make sure not to" she answered solemnly.

Ethan laughed, and returned her the plastic. "There, have a nice day!"

"You too!"

_**13:15**_

Trini browsed through the supermarket, stocking up her cart. It was funny, how much two girls could consume: she and Shelly had to go shopping twice a week.

_It's funny that even after all those years, I'm still not used to normal metabolism_, she thought, returning some chocolate wafers back to the shelf. _Then again_, she added wryly, _I'm not even sure that my metabolism is normal_.

The guys at the uni never noticed anything irregular, but Shelly who after all was Trini's roommate, complained several times that Trini ate more than she did, spent less time working out, and gained no weight at all. "You still look like a skinny 16-year-old" Shelly often complained, "That's damn mean"

Trini has never said that to her roommate, but the compliment-disguised-as-complaint stung, because Trini did look precisely as she did was she was 16: when she left Angel Grove, and the Rangering life.

_I could always get a new haircut_, she thought. _Or stop wearing yellow. Why do I do this to myself? Why can't I let go?_

She blinked quickly as memories surfaced.

_"Don't do that to yourself, Trini", said Jason quietly. The goodbye party was over, and only he and Trini remained to mop up the mess._

_"Do what?" she asked, though she knew what he was about to say. Or she thought she did._

_"Punish yourself for leaving the team", Jason said. "Though you probably still think of it as "quitting" "_

_His words shook her to the core. "I'm not punishing myself, Jason. I'm doing something that I want to do"_

_"Excuse me, wrong phrasing. You're trying to make yourself pay for leaving the team. For not being there"_

_"I'm not, Jason"_

_"I know you are, Trini. I've been through this myself, remember? I came back to Angel Grove and risked my life – double time – with Trey's powers"_

_"But, Jason", she said, trying hard to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. "It's not leaving the team that I should pay for". She couldn't believe that she just told him something which she hardly admitted to herself. Than again… it was Jason. If she couldn't trust Jason, whom could she trust?_

_So she gave him the whole deal. She told him about the anguish and the feeling of failure that stained all her memories as a Ranger: she told him of the countless nights she remained awake; she even told him about her collection of newspaper clippings – the one that had the pictures and short bios of every person they failed to save; she showed him the notebook in which she chronicled each monster. Then there was nothing left to reveal._

_"There's only one thing I don't understand", said Jason. He hasn't cried, hasn't shouted. He couldn't – or didn't – hide the shock in his eyes, but other than that he remained composed as ever. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"_

_"Because you didn't see things the way I did", Trini said simply._

_Jason slammed his fist against the table, rattling the dishes. "I should have known. Even if you never said a word, I should have guessed", he said, his voice still calm._

_Trini shook her head. "My values, my dilemmas" she said._

_Jason shook his head. "Wrong", he said softly. "My teammate." Before she could retort, he had her wrapped up in a bear hug. "Don't say a word, sister. I'm just trying to remind you that you have my shoulder, and always will"_

_**13:30**_

_Right on schedule_ thought Trini, satisfied, as she left the mall, shopping bags cradled in her arms. _I should be home by 14:00, and my call would reach Kimat 07:00 a.m. sharp_.

It was a bright winter's day. The sun was high in the sky, its light reflected from the puddles: the city drainage system didn't seem capable of handling a week's worth of rain properly, and so the puddles were scattered all over the pavement and road. Up there in the middle of Tel Aviv it wasn't too bad – you just had to watch out for splashes from passing cars – but Trini knew that in the southern, poorer neighborhoods whole streets were completely flooded. The newspaper sported large headlines, but nobody really seemed to mind: after all, it happened every year.

The traffic light changed to green and, looking carefully left and right, Trini crossed the road. She was wise enough to wear waterproof shoes – after getting her socks soaked more than once – and so could walk freely, instead of watching out for the deeper puddles.

She thought of visiting the old books shop, but decided to go later: she had the whole day, and the grocery bags were getting heavy. She ignored the luring King George Street, and continued down Dizzengoff. This part of the street didn't have so many shops in it, and therefore was less crowded.

_I really should spend some time outside today_, she though. _For all I know tomorrow itmight start raining again_. It wasn't a plausible option, but she knew the thought would help her goad herself into action. _Maybe I'll take a seaside stroll, if the windisn't too bad. I should do it in the noon, when it's still warm. It'll be freezing cold in the evening. Not that after three years in Europe, Israeli cold is likely to bother me!_

She had reached the left turn to the street where she lived. Her house was the second from the corner. Her hand was on the doorknob.

That's when she heard it. For a few long seconds she stood frozen, and then she dropped her bags and ran back to the Center.

_**13:45**_

It happened on the zebra crossing. It must have been a car, for the damage seemed too great to have been done by the amount of explosives a man could carry on his body. And surely, in the middle of the road there was the burnt-out skeleton of a car. The other cars, which were near to it, were blackened too, and some of them were thrown sideways, or flipped upside down.

Looking at the cars kept her from looking at the people, but not for long. Some were screaming, howling with terror or pain. Others were too shocked or injured. Some, Trini noticed, were speaking on the cell phones.

"A car bombing, I'm telling you, right next to the Dizzengoff Center. Hurry up and send those ambulances. What entrance? I don't know what entrance! At the zebra crossing near the Center! Are you going to send those ambulances, or not?"

"Dana – oh, Dana, you're not going to believe me – you're not to believe what just happened - "

"Mom – I'm okay, I just wanted you to know…"

"Shirley, oh my god, Daniel, it's Shirley – she – we went to the mall – and, and…"

Trini kneeled next to the nearest body, but she could tell just by looking at it that there was nothing for her to do. She moved to the next one. She decisively averted her eyes from the more horrible remains – those that could no longer be recognized as people.

Even above the noise and the sights, it was the smell that nearly overwhelmed her_. I don't remember it even smelling like this when I was a Ranger_, she thought dazedly as she tore a sweatshirt lying by, turning it into a bandaging. _Maybe the helmet filtered it out, or something_. She tightened the impromptu bandage around the man's arm, got up, and continued to the next injured person.

"Miss?"

Trini turned her head as someone tapped her shoulder lightly. The glowing orange vest identified the person as a medic.

"Miss, it's okay now. We have the situation under control"

Looking around, Trini saw that the area was packed with ambulances and police cars.

"I didn't hear you get here", she said blankly.

"Are you alright, Miss? Are you injured?"

"No, I'm okay. I wasn't here when that car exploded – I heard the explosion and I came to help"

"Well, you helped a great deal. I've been watching you for several minutes now". The medic smiled kindly at her. "You sure you alright?"

"Yes, thanks"

"The police are sealing off the area now. If you're not injured, you may want to go home"

"I'd rather stay-"

"There's enough medical personal here now, it's okay"

"I want to help"

"You helped a great deal already. It's our turn now to do our job. You know what?" the medic scrambled in her pockets, and dragged out a piece of paper. "Write me your name and phone call, we may want to call you later"

"Call me?"

"Yeah, for an honorary certificate or something. The city does this kind of things"

Trini wrote down her name and cell number.

"Go home now", said the medic firmly, patting her shoulder again. "And make sure you've got some company, promise?"

Her shopping bags were still where she dropped them, at the building's door. She packaged them again, picked them up and walked upstairs.

When she got into the apartment, she put them on the tiny kitchen table. She walked over the living room, picked up the phone, and dialed.

"Morning" yawned a familiar voice.

Trini smiled genuinely. "Happy Birthday, sleeping beauty"

"Trini! Oh my god, it's you!" Kim snapped awake at once, judging by her voice.

"Of course it's me. Would I forget your birthday?" said Trini, walking over to her room and opening the closet.

"I just wasn't expecting you to call so early! Oh, this is so great!"

* * *

Trini put down the phone. She had changed into clean cloths while talking to Kim. The bloodstained ones were already immersed in soap solution in the sink. Trini turned to the kitchen, intent on unpacking the shopping, when the phone rang.

"Trini!" it was a near-hysteric Steff. "I just heard the news – there was an explosion right by your place – are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright. I wasn't even there when it happened"

"Oh good, good. We were all so worried about you – hi, guys!" - Steff said to someone on her side – "She's okay!"  
She switched her attention back to Trini. "Would you like me to drop by? I'll come right over - "

"Steff, I'm fine, I told you, I wasn't even there. Thanks a bunch for caring"

"You're welcome. Are you sure you're all right? You sound a little shaken"

"Naturally, I am, but I'm fine, really"

"I'll take your word for it" said Steffie, though she didn't sound totally convinced. "I'll call you again later, okay?"

"Okay, thanks"

"You're welcome. Anyhow, break's over, gotta go in now, bye!

Trini put down the phone, frowning. No sooner has she done that, than the thing rang again.

"Hello?" she answered shortly.

"Trini. What's up?"

"Tamara". Trini smiled despite herself. The sweet-tempered, slightly older Israeli, another past participant of the Peace Conference, never failed in finding just the right thing to do or say. "I'm alive and whole"

"What happened to "well"? " asked Tamara wryly.

"I take it you heard the news"

"Damn well I did. Here I was, hoping that we'll make it through the month without anybody blowing themselves up, and look what happened. You okay, though?"

"You asked me already"

"I wasn't referring to your physical well-being. And don't give me the I-grew-up-in-monster-city speech. I know Angel Grove is no safe haven, but this is different"

"I'm doing well – for now"

"You know my number, kid. Call if you want me to come over or anything"

"Tamara, you're in Be'er-Sheva"

"There's such a thing as a railway, you know", said Tamara jokingly. "Honestly though, I'm here for you even at 2 a.m. I'd tell you to call one of your friends for home – but, well, they'd probably just go hysteric on you"

"Thanks a bunch, Tamara"

"You're welcome. You know my number"

If anything, talking with Tamara had only made it harder on Trini. She could no longer ignore the pictures that kept running in front of her eyes: not just the scattered body parts from today's events, but also the memories of the countless battlefields she'd seen during her time as a Ranger.

Trini flopped down on the sofa, and pressed her palms to her eyes, hard.

The images weren't the worst of it. It was the questions that really caused her pain. _How can a human being do that?_ She wanted to scream. _How can a person be willing to kill innocent others? What could possibly twist someone into wanting to sacrifice themselves this way?_

She knew no answers to those questions. It seemed that nobody knew the answers – if they even believed that there were any. Too many people, it seemed, were satisfied by shrugging off those questions, and attempting to solve the situation by adding more violence to it.

She didn't hear the door opens, or Shelly coming in, until the other girl patted her knee.

"Hi, Trini…"

Trini raised opened her eyes, alarmed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked automatically.

"Well, at least you had the common sense to change into clean cloths, put the dirty ones in laundry and not turn on the TV or the radio" said Shelly, ignoring her completely, "And that's more common sense than most. I was afraid I'd come in to find you following the live coverage"

"I never watch the live coverage"

Shelly wondered off into the kitchen, and Trini followed her. "What are you doing home, anyway?"

"Well I wasn't going to leave you home alone!" said Shelly indignantly, unpacking the groceries.

"Lord, I totally forgot about those", said Trini. "Let me help…"

"Oh, no you don't" said Shelly sternly, slapping away Trini's hand. "You grab yourself some chocolate, girl"

"I don't…" began Trini, but stopped. She was never much of a chocolate person. The only times she ever ate chocolate, in fact, were after battles.

Shelly took her silence for a positive answer, produced a chocolate tablet out of nowhere, and put it in Trini's hand.

"You think you should call your parents?" she asked, "To calm them down?"

Trini shook her head. "I don't think they're following the news so closely. Even if they do know that anything happened, they probably think that I'm safe in the campus. Jason will probably call later, though, and maybe some of the others". Trini winced. "Kim will go off with my head when she realizes that my happy-birthday call came _after_ the attack"

"Yeah, well", said Shelly, "No point worrying about it now"

"Shelly?" asked Trini suddenly, surprised that she hasn't thought of it sooner. "Are you left-wing or right-wing?" The Israeli political terms did not refer to economics, but rather to one's stand on peace issues.

"Right-wing". She laughed at Trini's shocked expression. "Yes, I know. Us right-winged people have this horrible image of being illiterate, non-humanist, xenophobic, violent mob who only recite what we're told by out leaders". Shelly snorted. "Frankly, I think that there are more left-wing people who recite leaflets that right-winged"

"I'm left-wing", said Trini blankly.

"I've known that for ages. So? We're all human". She patted Trini's shoulder. "Have some more chocolate".


	2. Jason's Mulligan

* * *

_1. There's a little theme violation in this entry of the "Project: Aftermath" series. You'll know what I mean._

_2. Watch out: this story proceeds in two different timestreams, one going forward (the normal way) and the other backwards. If you get lost, like some of my betas, follow the numbering._

_3. This story in "Aftermath" is titled **"Jason's Mulligan"**._

_4. "Mulligan" - A second chance in golf, permission granted by the other players to re-take a flubbed shot, especially the first shot of the game. "Taking a Mulligan" is, strictly speaking, forbidden under the rules of the game (taken from a site called "The Word Detective". Stupid document manager won't let me paste a link)._

_5. Oh, and in case I didn't mention it, or if I wasn't clear enough: don't expect the stories in "Aftermath" to be part of a single, consistent timeline. Each story is totally independent._

* * *

**Project: Aftermath **

_Jason Lee Scott_

* * *

**(8)**

"So, are you mad at me?" asked Tommy.

"Mad at you?" repeated Jason slowly. "You don't honestly think… You do" he finished in astonishment, seeing as Tommy wouldn't meet his eyes. "You're a weird one bro, do you know that?"

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"It's a yes. No, not to that question!" added Jason hastily as Tommy flinched. "It's no, I'm not mad at you, and yes, I'll take you up on the offer". Tommy's face lit up with such happiness that Jason couldn't help but laugh out loud. "You really thought I'd be mad at you?"

"I thought maybe you wanted some peace and quiet…"

"No, bro, this is precisely what I needed" said Jason, clapping Tommy on the back, "This is just the right thing"

* * *

**(1)**

"Jason!"

Sitting at his desk, Jason heard Zack knock on the door – or perhaps kicking it.

"Jason, open up, man!"

Jason got up and opened the door. Zack tumbled in, carrying an alarmingly tall stack of thick volumes. Jason stared at Zack as he dropped the pile on his desk with a sigh. "What on Earth…?"

"Just a couple of textbooks, that's all" said Zack cheerfully.

"A couple of textbooks", repeated Jason slowly. He walked over to the desk and picked up one of the book. "O-Chem?" he asked uncertainly.

"You know I've been thinking about going to Med School?", asked Zack. "Well, I need to catch up on a couple of subjects"

Jason shook his head, smiling. "It's going to be a new experience, watching you study. I don't think you ever did one page of homework in your life"

"Didn't stop me from getting top grades" said Zack lightly. "Now, where's the coke supply?". He walked over to his wardrobe, opened it, and pulled a coke from the back of one of the shelves.

"Want one?" he asked Jason. "I've got enough in there"

"You know we're not supposed to have coke in the dorms, do you?" asked Jason, but took it nonetheless.

"So?" asked Zack, pulling another one for himself. "Cheers"

The two boys settled down.

"So, you're thinking about Med School?" asked Jason after a couple of minutes of silence.

"Yes, yes, I know", said Zack, sighing dramatically, "I don't need Mad School, I'm mad enough as it is"

Jason choked on his drink, and Zack sniggered.

"I mean, it's a little out of the blue, isn't it?" asked Jason, once he had managed to extract the coke from his lungs.

Zack shrugged. "Dunno", he said. "I considered Ecology – it's probably the most important thing being done today – but I love people, so I figured that I'd better pick something people-centered. But yeah, I haven't talked about it with anyone just yet – so it must come as a bit of a surprise to you, even if I've been thinking about it for while. What about you? You've got a thick one on your desk too".

"Well…" Jason hesitated, but finally said: "It's the 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy', if you have to know"

"The "Ultimate" edition, huh?" asked Zack. "It's a classic, just don't fall asleep reading it on your back, that's all"

"Say, do you feel like going out tonight?" asked Jason suddenly. "You, Trini and me?"

"Trini has this big debate day after tomorrow, I don't think she'll agree"

"I asked her already. We're only going out for a coffee, no big deal"

"Oh, fine then. Hi, since when do you drink coffee?"

"Since"

* * *

**(7)**

"Wow, you really are rusty", said Tommy, picking up his water bottle.

"I warned you", said Jason, taking a large gulp from his bottle.

"Not as rusty as you said you are"

"C'mon, you beat me bad"

"Yeah, but it's not like you shot no points at all"

"You're being too kind". Jason emptied the bottle, and fetched another one from his bag. "Anyway, since when are you the basketball type?"

"I'm not"

"So why'd you ask me to play?"

"'Cause the others are bound to be at the Youth Center, and you haven't told then that you're back just yet". Tommy shrugged. "I figured that none of them is the basketball type either"

"And you're afraid to engage in a civilian-Ranger spar"

"That too", agreed Tommy.

"Come on, Tommy"

"You said that you're out of shape", said Tommy. "Plus civilian-Ranger spars have a way of going awfully wrong"

"You're being stupid"

"Name me one occasion on which the civilian didn't get injured"

"You" said Jason promptly. "In the final of the Martial Arts Expo, the first time we met"

Tommy groaned. "You just strengthened my point", he said. "Now I'll be double afraid to go on the mats with you"

"What, so we won't spar against each other?"

"Actually…"

"What? You're not looking me in the eye, bro"

"There was something I wanted to talk to you about"

* * *

**(2)**

"How come, with all the coffee shops in this city, we always end up at the same one?" wondered Zack as the three of them set down at their regular table.

"I like it here" said Trini, putting her bag on the vacant chair. "It's spacious, but not too big"

"And there are always people" added Jason. "Hangouts should have lots of people"

"Did you know that originally, the word 'Hangout' meant 'A place where one lives'?" asked Trini.

"Really?" wondered Jason. "It's kind of fitting, I guess. We spent so much time at the Youth Center, we could have moved there and it would take our folks a couple of days to notice"

"Man, did you have to remind me?" asked Zack. "I still miss that place. And Ernie"

"We all do, Zack", said Trini.

"It's just funny, you know? It's been – what? Almost two years? – and we miss a _hangout_"

"Trini got it right", said Jason. "A true hangout is more than a place to sit over a smoothie or a latte"

"So what you're saying is, a coffee shop can't be a true hangout" stated Trini.

Jason blinked. "Did I just say that?"

"The lady has had too much debate" observed Zack – which cost him an elbow to the ribs. "Ouch!"

"I still practice Kong Fu", Trini warned him.

"And she's good enough to throw me on the mats, so you'd better watch out" added Jason.

Zack straightened his back. "Are you suggesting that I _can't_ throw you on the mats?"

Jason shrugged. "I don't know", he said. "It's been a while since we last sparred"

This made Zack pause for a moment. "It has, hasn't it", he finally said. "I can't remember when was the last time we sparred together"

"Five months ago" said Jason. "And 21 days"

"What, no minutes?"

Jason checked his watch. "Minus two hours"

"I was joking, man"

"I know you did"

Zack eyed his skeptically, making Jason crack a smile.

"Honestly", he said.

* * *

**(6)**

Jason picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Jase"

"Hi, Tommy. What's up?"

"Fine, how's with you?"

"Great. Do you feel like going out?"

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

"Shooting a couple of baskets, something like that"

"Man, I'm totally rusty; I haven't played basketball in, like, ages"

"Good, so I'll get to beat you once in a lifetime"

"We'll see about that, bro"

* * *

**(3)**

"How did we get to this subject anyway?" asked Trini. She and the two guys have been dredging up fond memories of Angel Grove for the last half an hour.

Zack and Jason looked at each other.

"The Youth Center", said Jason finally.

"Hangouts". Zack clicked his fingers. "We were talking about hangouts"

"You asked why we come to this specific spot so often", agreed Trini, "And Jason brought up the Youth Center. Why, really?"

"Why what?" asked Jason.

"Why bring up the Youth Center? I mean, it's not an obvious topic", said Trini. "Before you brought it up, it's been a considerable while since I last thought about the place"

Jason shrugged.

"Come on man, what's up?" asked Zack. "Something's eating you up lately"

"I noticed it, too", said Trini.

"Really?" asked Jason, surprised. "You didn't say anything"

Zack sighed dramatically. "Jason, man, I love you like a brother, you know that?"

"Yes", answered Jason carefully.

"So believe me when I tell you that you can be the thickest man on Earth sometimes"

"What Zack means is, you obviously needed time to think things over", said Trini. "So we waited until you'd be ready to talk. And if you're not ready just yet, we'll just keep waiting"

"No, it's okay", said Jason. Looking down, he stirred what was left of his coffee. "Actually, that's why I asked you guys out tonight"

* * *

**(5)**

"Jason?"

It was one voice Jason would recognize anywhere. Knowing he was in for an earful, he spun around.

"Hello, Tommy"

Tommy Oliver glared at his best bro, hands on hips. "Jason Lee Scott", he said, and noticed that the slightly shorter guy winced at Tommy's accusing tone, "You were going to tell me that you're back on this side on the Atlantic _when_? Oh no, you do _not_ get to give me puppy eyes!"

"Let's take this outside, okay Tommy?" suggested Jason. The other shoppers were already looking at them – and Jason had a feeling that an infamous Tommy-Tantrum was on the way.

Tommy muttered something intelligible – but it was probably a "yes" as he went to the door. Jason kept right by his side.

"Alright", he said once they were outside. "Now you can punch me if you want"

"Punch you?" Tommy was still glaring. "If I lay one finger on you, I swear I'm going to strangle you! Up until a short moment ago, I thought you were in Europe with Zack and Trini at the Youth Summit, and here you are buying milk in the supermarket! You're lucky I didn't mistake you for one of Mondo's creations!"

"Sorry"

"You don't get to 'sorry' me, either! When the _hell_ did you get back and why the _hell_ didn't you tell me?"

"I only got back yesterday", said Jason. "And I didn't tell you because it all happened so fast"

Tommy's anger deflated at Jason's quite tone.

"Did anything happen?" he asked. "I mean, like anything bad?"

Jason smiled slightly. "No, nothing bad happened". Jason had the feeling that if he told Tommy that anybody at the Summit had hurt him, Tommy would teleport there to teach the would-be offender some manners in such a way that would land the poor hypothetic person in ICU.

"So?" demanded Tommy.

Jason just shrugged.

"Do any of the others know you're back yet?"

"No, just my folks. I told you, I only got back yesterday"

Tommy moved – and for a terrifying split second, Jason thought that Tommy really was going to strangle him. Instead, he pulled Jason into a bone-crushing hug.

"It's good to have you back, bro, even if you have a _lot_ of question to answer to", said Tommy into Jason's shoulder; Jason could swear he heard tears in Tommy's voice. He tried to answer, but all he could do was choke: Tommy was hugging him far too tightly.

"Sorry", said Tommy, slightly embarrassed, and let go of Jason.

"Well you did warn me you're gonna strangle me", said Jason, massaging his shoulder. "Some of those ribs are probably cracked"

"Suits you right" answered Tommy sullenly – but the twinkle in his eyes revealed that he was joking.

"It's good to be back, bro", said Jason honestly. "I missed you like hell"

To his great surprise, Tommy laughed. "I missed you too", he said.

* * *

**(4)**

"You know it's periodic evaluation in two weeks?" asked Jason, still stirring his mostly-gone coffee and avoiding his friends' eyes.

"Yes, so?" asked Zack.

"So, I've been thinking", said Jason slowly.

"Jason, you don't think that you're going to get low evaluation, don't you?" asked Trini sharply.

"No, Trini, I don't", he began.

Trini did not let him finish. "Good, because you're one of the best, and you better well remember that"

"Do I get to finish a sentence now?" asked Jason.

"Yes", said Trini, looking every bit as fierce as the saber-tooth tiger that was once her Zord.

"So I've been thinking", said Jason again. "And for some reason, I kept feeling uncomfortable, as if something was wrong. I just couldn't put my finger on it. Any way I didn't look it at, I figured that I was doing fine". Jason paused.

"And?" asked Zack after a while. "Did you figure it out?"

"I did"

"And?" now was Trini's turn.

"I'm doing fine here". Seeing their blank expressions, Jason added: "Don't you see it? _Fine_"

One, two, five seconds passed, and then Trini said: "Oh"

"Oh what?" asked Zack. "What's wrong with 'fine'?" Then he blinked. "Oh", he said.

Jason smiled. "Yes, oh", he agreed. "Fine is wrong. 'Fine' is good enough that they don't kick me off the program, but it is not good enough for me" Jason stopped as if mid-sentence.

"It's not good enough for the leader of the Power Rangers", finished Trini quietly.

Jason nodded. "You two have been achieving so much more than I did", he said. "You're the stars here. I'm just tagging along"

Zack nodded thoughtfully. "I haven't noticed this before", he said, "But now that you pointed it out, it's pretty obvious that your heart isn't into this anymore. You started out as the most dedicated of us. How come this happened?"

"It's not for me", said Jason simply. "I'm more suitable for direct confrontation. All this discussing and planning…" Jason shrugged. "It got the wind out of my sails"

"What are you going to do?" asked Trini. "Surely you realize you can't be red Ranger again". The last words were said in a near-whisper. "This isn't how things work, Jase. You gave that morpher to Rocky, and now it's his; you can't just go back and take it back"

"I know that, Trini. I'm not even sure that I want to be a Ranger again: letting go was so hard"

"You mean kicking off the addiction", said Zack dryly.

Jason chuckled. "Yeah, that's the right terminology", he agreed. "Rangering is a hard drug; I'm not sure I want to take it up again"

Trini eyes him skeptically; if Jason noticed, he pretended not to. "I do think I'll go back home, though", he said.

"Back to Angel Grove?" asked Zack. "Quit the Conference?"

Jason nodded.

Zack took a deep breath. "I'd say that quitting isn't like you… But I won't. You're right, here you're not achieving half of what you can. Go home, think it over, do right". Zack smiled. "It's okay, pal"

"Thanks", said Jason. "Trini?"

"I noticed that you're not prospering here a long time ago, Jase", she said. "You know what's best for you"

"It's not your support I'm asking for", interrupted Jason. "It's your approval"

Trini hesitated. "That's harder for me to give", she said. "For many reasons. I believe in what we're doing here, and it's hard for me to see you go. I also believe that going back is always wrong. I have a bad feeling about you going back to Angel Grove, Jason, a pretty bad feeling. But…" she hesitated. "No, for you it's right. Just be _careful_, okay?"

"Is that a 'yes'?"

"It's a yes"

Jason's smile was one of relief. "So tomorrow I'll tell them I'm quitting", he said. "Let's have a toast". He picked up his water glass, and the others followed suit. "For chances, and second chances. Cheers"

"Cheers"

"Cheers"


	3. And Counting

_1. "Project: Aftermath" was intended to be strictly centered around MMPR/PRZ characters only. Still, this one character insisted on being written, and wouldn't leave be me._

_2. This story in "Aftermath" is titled **"And Counting"**._

_Reviews, as always, are most welcome._

* * *

**Project: Aftermath**

_Justin Stewart_

* * *

Diary. Pen. Stickers. Needle. All ready. Justin took a deep breath.

**_One... _**

He hadn't started keeping a diary until some two months after he became a Ranger. It was one birthday Justin would never forget, seeing as it started with Divatox sending him a wired bike for a birthday gift. Tommy and the others got Justin off the bike, and together they beat the monster. The emotional high of victory, combined with the surprise party and his dad's appearance, made Justin put aside the day's battle until late in the evening.

He was in the best of moods when his dad returned him to the shelter, and the mood carried him to sleep. Only when thirst woke him up, some hours later, did it hit Justin how close his birthday came to being his deathday. Justin vividly remembered how the glass nearly slipped from his sweating hand, how he returned to bed, shaking all over, trying hard not to cry.

It took two months of Rangering for the message of death to sink in his mind, and two more days for him to act upon it. He couldn't write about Rangering, naturally – certainly not with all the other kids in the shelter – but Justin wasn't a certified prodigy for nothing. He found his own way to record his battles.

**_Two…_**

Starting a diary was one of the first ideas he thought of. The only problem was, how to manage it in such a way that it wouldn't give away the secret of his identity? For a while, Justin entertained the idea of writing in code, but he dismissed it: he did not want anyone who might stumble across his diary to realize that there was anything hidden there. He considered newspaper clippings, but those, too, seemed too obvious.

Images were the next logical choice. Seeing as he couldn't draw all that well, he came to the idea of stickers. They were the perfect idea, really: easy to get and inconspicuous. He put a fish for each quarrel with the Piranhatrones, a car for each monster they defeated. It wasn't much, really, but it made his heart easier.

**_Three…_**

Fish and cars were all he needed for two months. Then came Flamite.

It was the worst battle Justin had participated in until then, and his second worst total. Flamite kicked their buts, Tommy was kidnapped, and Justin hasn't felt so incompetent since his very first days as a Ranger. It wasn't the worst of it, though. By then Justin knew how to get past post-battle depression.

He saw the people running in the streets. Some of them made it to the shelters, but not all. Those who didn't make it were burnt to death. He saw it, and could do nothing about it. Or rather, he did what he could but they died anyway – which was even worse. It was the first time people died on his shift.

It was hard getting to the store that day, but he managed it. He knew it would take a few days to complete the body count, but it was important to him to buy the stickers that very day. He spent a long time in front of the sticker rack, and ended up picking candles.

**_Four…_**

If the battle with Flamite was his second worst, the battle with Goldgoyle was certainly the worst. No words were enough to describe a monster that lost them two sets of Zords in one battle. It was a total knockout: the Rangers had plans in case they lost one set, but they never imagined they would loose both of them. Dark Specter's interference was their luck: if the monarch of Evil wouldn't have called Divatox away, then the fall of the Ranger would've been complete.

But Dark Specter _has_ interfered, and the Rangers lived.

It was heartbreaking, having to stand by the commboard at NASADA headquarters while his friends and teammates took off into the unknown, but Justin knew it was the right thing to do. For one thing, he wasn't going to break his dad's heart just when they were finally about to live together again; for another, Justin knew that by getting on that shuttle, he would be endangering all of their identities – and that was a no-no. So he told TJ that "the missing person" couldn't come with them, and fought back his tears until late at night, when he was alone in his bad; and even then, he cried silently, so his dad wouldn't hear.

**_Five…_**

He didn't mark his diary with fish anymore, because there weren't any Piranhatrones; he didn't use car stickers, because the new Zords were nothing like cars; and he did not put candles to mark the dead, because it wasn't enough anymore.

He didn't mark the drone quarrels, because he had no way to follow up on them; he put small stars for each monster beaten by his old teammates and whatever new allies they made; but the dead weren't marked with stickers anymore.

Biting his lip, Justin squeezed his finger one last time.

**_Six._**

The last drop of blood fell on the page. Justin sucked on his finger. Within less then an hour, no mark would be visible on it. Lucky for him that he still healed quickly than most, because almost every other day on his diary was marked. Whoever the new villains were, they were working hard.

Justin left the diary open to dry, and went over to the bathroom. He cleaned the needle under the running water. Only when no blood was visible on it did he close the tap and wipe the needle dry. Secrets, Justin decided a long time ago, definitely sucked.

He went back to his room. His heart was yet to heal, true; Carlos, Cassie, TJ, Cassie and their new teammates were fighting for Earth and for their lives, true; but, hard as it was, Justin knew only one way to honor them: to get on with his life – and remember.


	4. The Crossroads in the Mirror

_Enjoy, and please review._

* * *

**Project: Aftermath**

_Aisha Campbell_

* * *

Stars; so many of them; Aisha couldn't understand why it all suddenly seemed so alien. She grew up here, by the riverside, watching the myriad of twinkling stars in the sky above. She loved the riverbank; she's been coming here since she could remember herself - to watch the animals, to wash, to watch the stars and to think, when she needed to be alone. Tonight, though, everything seemed strange: she could still find her way among the trees, but the sense of familiarity was gone.

_Jamais-vu_.

Where have the strange words come from? Aisha didn't recall every hearing those words, but she knew that they meant the sudden estrangement of something familiar. She shivered_. Is this the Sight?_ She wondered. _But I haven't chewed the leaves; I shouldn't have the Sight yet!_

Feet padded softly behind her back, and Ashala set by her adopted grandchild.

"Thinking, Aisha?"

"Something is wrong, grandmamma", said Aisha.

"Why do you think that anything is not as it ought to be?"

"Because I have a feeling as if I've never seen any of this before"

"What makes you think that you have?"

"I grew up here! I've been coming to this spot on the bank since I was old enough to walk! You and I spent here countless hours, you teaching me how to recognize all the animals and the plants…" Aisha's voice died quietly. "I know it happened, but the memories are slipping when I try to recall them. What's happening to me, grandmamma?"

"You're growing", said Ashalla, somewhat cryptically; it was not yet time, she decided, to reveal everything to Aisha. The child would have to find something out for herself.

"Is this the Sight?"

"Not quite"

"I don't understand, grandmamma. If you know what's happening to me, why aren't you explaining?"

"Because this is something you'll have to understand yourself". The old woman looked up to the sky, checking the moon's position. "It's almost time. Do you want to go through the ceremony?"

"I don't know". Aisha voice grew weary, as if she's given the same question the very same answer many times; which she did. "I don't understand. Since I was young, you always made sure I'd be taught both the Old Ways and the New Way, even that you told everyone in the village that they don't mix. Whenever I asked, you told me that a day would come when I'll have to choose, but that the day hasn't arrived yet.

"I was sure now is that time: on the one hand, I was given this study scholarship, I chance to go and learn outside, and on the other, it's time for me to go through with the ceremony if I'm to be you successor. And you _still_ tell me it's not time to choose. I don't understand!"

Ashalla took her time before answering. "It is your time to choose", she said finally. "But I have reason to believe that you, unlike others, can walk both the Old and New Ways"

"How?"

"I can tell you, or you can see for yourself. If I'll tell you, I don't think you'd ever fully understand. If you want to see for yourself…" Ashalla let the sentence dangle.

Aisha nodded. "Than I must perform the ceremony"

"Yes"

Aisha pushed herself to her feet. "Than let's go"

* * *

Aisha tried hard not to swallow. She and Ashalla were sitting by the fire, the entire village seated around them. Many came of age tonight: the singing, dancing and acting went on for hours. Now, though, it was time for the final part of the ceremony. Ashalla, shaman of the village, would attempt foresight for the new adults of the community, and Aisha, her longtime apprentice, would attempt foresight for the first time.

She was acutely aware of everyone's eyes as she and Ashalla set alone in the middle on the circle. She reminded herself to appear calm, calm, to ooze tranquility. The villagers were her judges, too.

She and Ashalla remained silent as they prepared the mixture of herbs they would soon use. Aisha help Ashalla prepare the mixture many times but tonight, with the alienation of the _Jamais-vu_ and the watching eyes, it was hard to keep her hand from trembling.

_Alienation_. The word sparked something in her, like a shadow of a memory.

They were done.

Ashalla raised the bowl first. She took a sip and then a full gulp. She handed the bowl to Aisha, who drank the rest. She put down the bowl. Already her head was heavy, spinning. Images swam before her eyes: she was twelve, assisting her grandmother in the ceremony for the first time; she was twelve, telling the strange old woman that what she called her personal talisman was really what she, Aisha, came from the future to find. She agreed to stay…

"I agree", she told a huge head, floating in an even-larger tube…

"I agree", she told Ashalla when she asked her to become her apprentice…

The village vanished.

She was standing in a circular room, in which everything was made of metal; everything, except for the large tube with the head.

This was not how she expected the Spirit World to look like!

"This is not the Spirit World", said the head in the tube, "Nor am I a spirit. We are inside your mind, and the scenery is taken from your memories, and mine"

"But I've never seen this place" said Aisha, confused, and then her good manners kicked in. She bowed her head, palms pressed together. The head in the tube may not be a spirit, but she could tell he was powerful. "I am Aisha, oh great one, granddaughter and apprentice to Ashala, of the great plains"

"I know who you are, Aisha", said the head gently. "You need not bow to me. I am Zordon, of Eltar, mentor to the Power Rangers"

"What are the Power Rangers, if I may… Oi!" she raised her hand to her temple as a headache attacked her suddenly, and strange images she did not understand.

"Who, not what", said Zordon. "In a different life, you were one, too"

She massaged her temples, but did not screw her face at the pain. Things were beginning to make sense. "A different life that tonight I began to remember", she guessed.

"True", agreed Zordon. "Because tonight, in that other life, was the night in which you chose to remain in what was – for you – the past, and thus change time"

Aisha opened her mouth to ask – and closed it. She would figure this one out for herself. Lucky for her, Ashalla insisted that she learn modern physics as much as she insisted on Aisha learning of the realm of the Spirits, and now Aisha put all her knowledge into use.

"You mean that I had a different life", she said, "One in which I knew you and was a _Power Ranger_, and I somehow changed that life – for a reason?"

"Yes"

She frowned. "You remember me, making that choice; grandmother Ashalla knows of this too; but I didn't remember. Why?"

"Because you as you know yourself right now, was not the one who made the choice. To remember, you must be both Aisha, shaman of the great plains and Aisha, yellow Power Ranger of Earth"

Aisha managed not to gulp. Her grandmother warned her that one's first excursion into the Spirit World usually contained a challenge or a test, but this was beyond and unlike anything she ever expected. Still, there was only one thing she could do. She straightened her back, and asked: "Can you tell me how to do it?"

"It is your mind we are inside of, Aisha. Here, you are the one who make the rules"

_So I need to find the solution for myself_, she thought. She nodded to Zordon and then, hesitantly, closed her eyes and concentrated as her grandmother taught her. She considered praying to the Spirits, but if she were inside her mind than they would not be able to help. Therefore, she sent her thoughts inside and down, searching… And an image came to her: a yellow crystal. She could see it both in her grandmother's hands, and in her own, and here at the metallic room. She made a mental grasp for the crystal, and felt something change. She opened her eyes – and took a step back.

She was looking at her twelve-years-old self, dressed in white people's clothing, yet the 16-years-old Aisha knew that this was herself from the night she became the shaman's apprentice

"I was waiting for you to remember me again", said twelve-years-old Aisha. "You remembered then, but only for one night. Then you forgot"

Aisha got her knees, so that she would be eye-level with the child. "I am sorry for forgetting you", she said.

"Don't be", said the child. "You had to forget. The timelines cross at only two points, that night and today, and you couldn't remember me in between or the timeline would've gone to hell in a hand basket"

Aisha blinked at the familiarity of the alien expression.

"Here" the child put her hand forward, holding the yellow crystal.

Aisha reached out for the crystal – and stopped. "I'm not supposed to hold it", she said. She looked straight into the child's eyes, and asked: "Together?"

The child nodded. "Together". Turning her palm, she let the crystal drop…

…Both Aishas caught it together, and cried out as memories rushed forward and, rather than merging, arranged themselves side-to-side, two memories for each moment of one woman's life.

When Aisha's vision cleared again, she found herself of her knees, panting. To her right was the Command Center, with Zordon and his tube, and to her left – the riverside, and her grandmother, waiting.

"So you are Zordon", said Ashalla. "I've been wanting to meet you for a long while, now"

"As I desired to meet you", said Zordon. "It is an honour to finally make your acquaintance"

Carefully, Aisha pushed herself to her feet.

"Well, Aisha?" asked Ashalla. "Do you understand now, why I pushed you to learn both Old Ways and New?"

For a long moment, Aisha hesitated, and then smiled. "Yes, I do", she said. "Thank you – for everything". She looked to Zordon. "And thank you, too"

"You're welcome, child", said Zordon.

Her grandmother smiled and nodded. "Finally you are yourself, Aisha", she said, "As you truly are: a woman of both worlds, blessed with the best of them both"


	5. Nova

_1. For the tiny thing that this story is, it sure demanded a lot of work. I'm sorry for the wait, and do hope you enjoy._

_2. This story in "Aftermath" is titled "_**Nova**

* * *

**Project: Aftermath**

_Kimberly Ann Hart_

* * *

_Where is the goddamn machinata?_ Leo growled as she looked at the four open cupboards and the three shelves. The machinata was nowhere, and it was beginning to get annoying. She slammed the cupboards closed, and opened the last two. _Where the hell did Kim put the thing?_ she wondered, rummaging furiously for the lost coffee pot. _And what is it with Kim and hiding stuff? Why can't I drink coffee because she thinks it's unhealthy?_ That was unfair, and Leo knew it. Kim wasn't one for hiding things on purpose – she probably just put the machinata "in its place", and forgot that Leo couldn't find anything that wasn't on the counter. Still, it was annoying. Leo slammed the two doors shut – _did I just break something?_ – and growled again, passing her fingers through her hair. She'll just have to drink instant, then. Any good cookies left? A quick check revealed an entire bag of peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies – but there was only enough instant left for one cup, and as much as she wanted coffee now, she'll need it more tomorrow morning.

_Damn_.

She gave up. She found a small pot and the cocoa, and settled for hot chocolate. She would not drink tea, even though there were at least ten kinds of the thing smiling at her from the shelves. Damn Kim and her healthy eating habits. _What on Earth possessed me to room with a by-the-book perfect eater? More to the point, why don't I get a grip and go grocery shopping?_ She jotted "instant coffee" on the grocery list, wrote: "Do not hide Leo's stuff" in big, black capital letters on the whiteboard and underlined it twice. She moved to find a jar for the cookies, but reached for the bread knife instead when she heard someone at the door.

_Burglar!_

Then she heard the telltale sound of keys being stopped into the china bowl, a familiar shuffling of feet, and a small sigh.

_Kim?_ Leo glanced at the watch. _But it's too early! She and Danny went out tonight! Oh no…_ There was only one thing this could mean. _Not again_. She put the knife back in place, and peered outside the kitchen.

There was Kim, in that big faux-fur coat that made her look so tiny, standing next to the door and blinking furiously. Leo's heart sank.

"Hi, Kim", she said quietly.

Kim's head turned sharply. "Leo? I thought you'd be asleep". She sniffed. "Is that hot chocolate I'm smelling?"

"Yeah, good thing we ran out of coffee". Leo shifted. "Well, take that coat off and come in already. It's almost ready"

Kim smiled, sheepishly, then hung the coat on the rack and came in the kitchen. "Smells good. Why can't I ever get the hot chocolate to smell so good?"

"That's because you microwave it". _Still in shock_, figured Leo. _She probably ran straight home. At least he had the decency to tell her right away, the jerk_. Then again, she knew that Danny was not a jerk. He was a nice guy, really – but. "So", said Leo nonchalantly, "Danny broke up with you?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Well, you're home several hours too early, you're obviously depressed, and your eyes are red" said Leo dryly. She took the pot off the stove poured it into two mugs and put the mugs on the table. "Drink your chocolate"

"You are the most tactless person I ever met", said Kim. She sank into a chair and picked the mug closer to her. Leo set on the other chair.

"I'd rather think of myself as brutally honest" said Leo.

"Being dumped sucks"

"I agree. Want me to disembowel him?"

"_Leo!_"

"What? I can, you know"

"You can, and you would, and that's why I'm worried. God, don't do that, Leo, you're scaring me" Leo trying her best innocent smile – which, unfortunately, looked more like a murderous smirk.

"Sorry. Hi, come on, I didn't kill any of your other exes, didn't I?"

"You mean you didn't kill any of them _yet_". Kim rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I am rooming with a dormant psychopathic killer"

"Am not! Last we checked, you kicked my ass!"

"I'm not the one carrying a knife!"

"That's because you're a good person!"

Kim crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

Leo growled. "Fine, you win"

Kim sipped her cocoa.

"What reason did he give?" asked Leo after a moment or two of silence. "The usual?"

"Yeah" said Kim. She wiped away some tears. Leo got up in search of tissues. "Said that it's not me, it's him, and that it doesn't mean he doesn't care about me very deeply… Same old trash. Thanks" Leo was back with the tissue box.

"You're welcome". Leo picked up her mug and leaned against the chair, not sitting down. "He lasted almost three months. That's not bad"

"I've had enough of three-months flings! I want a proper relationship! Why can't a find a normal guy?"

"Some girls would kill for the kind of guys who fall for you", said Leo wryly. "They're witty, kind, chivalrous and they're almost always good-looking"

"And they all have fear of commitment. No, that's not true". Kim's voice turned bitter. "Greg, Steve, Allen…" she counted down on her fingers. "At least five guys I dated have a record of long-term relationships"

"Kim…" warned Leo. She had a feeling she knew where this was getting – and unfortunately, she wasn't wrong.

"So is there something wrong with me? What is it about me that scares guys away?"

Leo wanted to curse; she wanted to smash something, or someone; this was so unfair. _She doesn't deserve it. Kim just doesn't fucking deserve to feel like that. Damn them all for hurting her like that_. "Kim, listen to me", said Leo, leaning forward and placing down the mug before it spilled. "There is nothing wrong with you. You're perfect. You're kind, smart – despite how hard you try to hide it – you've got a heart so big I don't know how it fits inside of you and you're so drop dead gorgeous that it should be fucking outlawed to be as pretty as you are, with those big doe eyes and curves to die for"

Kim smiled, but faintly. "Do you have a crush on me, Leo?"

Leo raised an eyebrow. "Think I'd room with you if I did?"

That drew a chuckle out of Kim, but it faded quickly. "I don't believe you", she said, matter-of-factly. "I can't believe you. I've had my share of relationships and dates, Leo, but only one of them lasted for more than a couple of months. There has to be something wrong with me"

"Kim, there's nothing wrong with you. It's them"

"I'm one, they're many. It makes more sense that…"

"No, you listen to me, Kim", said Leo firmly. Finally giving up, she sat down. "Okay, maybe I didn't put it right. There's nothing wrong with either you or any of the guys you ever dated. You are just… well, too much"

"Too much?" Kim frowned, not understanding. "But I…"

"You're different, Kim", said Leo quietly. "I've known that since I met you. Anyone who sees you knows that. It's radiating off of you like some kind of freaking aura. You're like this huge light bulb or something. You're too…" Leo shook her head. "It's like you're too much alive or something. You're on a totally different plain than the rest of us"

"You're not making sense"

"Aren't I?" challenged Leo. She saw that fleeting expression on Kim's face, and she knew she was right. _And she knows just what I'm talking about, too. She just likes to pretend it doesn't exist, for some reason. What's hurting her so much, damnit?_

"You aren't. Even if I accept everything else you said about me, this just doesn't make sense. Why should I be so different from anyone else?"

_You tell me, Kim,_ thought Leo, but didn't say it. Instead, she said: "Not _anyone_ else. Remember when that friend of yours visited, what was her name – Trini?"

"Yes", said Kim cautiously.

"She had that aura, too. And that guy who dropped out of nowhere couple of months ago – Billy was the name? - and Jason too". Jason called often enough that Leo could recognize his voice on the phone. She decided to push her luck. "And you know what all three of them have in common, Kim?"

"What?" asked Kim – but Leo knew that she knew. It was obvious.

"They're your friends from home. I don't know what it is they're feeding you in California, but it's got to be something special"

"Don't be…"

"And your one prize relationship that lasted more than fifteen weeks? That was back home too"

Silence.

"I'm not asking you to tell me, Kim", said Leo gently. "But it takes a real idiot not to notice the way all you guys look at each other, the way you all move about. You're different. There's a light about you and I can't claim to understand it, nor do I think I ever will. It's just… you should know it's there, that's all. Maybe you can't see it from the inside"

"If it's like you say it is – and I'm not saying that I agree with anything you said", said Kim carefully, her voice very low, "I still don't understand what it has to do with Danny dumping me"

"You're so much alive, Kim. You're burning people up if they get too close. It's one of your bigger attractions – god, you'd stand out in a crowd of a thousand – but it's too hard on us plain humans"

"You're holding just fine", said Kim accusingly.

"Well, I'm not your girlfriend, am I?" retorted Leo. "And believe me, you're almost wearing me out as it is". Kim flinched. _Damn it! Think before you talk, stupid!_, Yelled Leo inside her head. "No – damn, Kim, don't look like that, it's not like you're hurting me or something…"

"S'Okay, Leo", whispered Kim. "I understand. So, what you're saying is this". Kim took a deep breath, then buried her face in her hand. "Am I going to be alone all my life?"

"Oh, Kim…" Leo got up from her chair and hugged the other woman. "I'm sure you'll find someone, someday. The world can't be so unjust"

"You're just saying that to make me feel better"

"No, I really think so"

"Doesn't make it true"

"Do you think that the world is unfair?"

"Y… No", admitted Kim. "I can't think that. I can't believe in that". She sniffed. "I'm not going back to Tommy, though"

"Never said you should. Nothing good comes out of going back"

"If what you say is true, though… Then whoever I spend my life with, it's got to be someone from the gang". She made a face. "That's just… yuck, ugh. They're like my brothers, Leo. I can't. It's like…"

"I didn't say that's what you should do, Kim. Maybe there are more people like that out there somewhere, and you'll meet one of them in time"

"Maybe" said Kim – but Leo could read on her expression that she didn't believe it. _What aren't you telling me, Kimberly?_ Wondered Leo yet again. _What's the big secret that's eating you up?_

Kim sniffed again. "Do we have ice cream?"

* * *

_A/N: If you could spend with me another moment, folks. I need help. I ran out of ideas for good "Aftermath" stories (except for an Adam story, which is intended as grand finale). So, if you have good ideas for "Aftermath"-themed stories for any of the remaining Old School characters, i'd very much like to know._


	6. Where the Heart Is

_1. This story in "Aftermath" is titled "Where the heart it"_

_2. And no, it's not supposed to be a love story_

* * *

**Project: Aftermath**

_Kat Hillard_

* * *

It's the irony of the thing that really gets to me. The thing in itself is not that bad, almost as if I've been expecting it. The irony, though, can make me bowl over as if punched in the stomach. Irony over irony: what is more cliché than "punched in the stomach" as a metaphor for an unpleasant surprise? But punches are sort of what this is about.

Ask me what being a Ranger is all about, and I will answer without hesitation that it is about protection: Rangers protect. What precisely did we protect? Lives, eventually – we were sent out to protect the city and the planet, but ultimately, the job is about protecting lives. Not saving them: saving is the job of the healers. Healers correct wrongs. We prevented wrongs, or at least tried to.

You'll get similar answers from the rest of us Rangers. Protecting, saving, helping – the jobs of the good guys. Rangers are the good guys, right?

How do we tell the good guys from the bad? Most Rangers – most people the age we were then, really – would easily answer: love. Those who can love and care for others are the good guys, and evil are those who see tools where there are people, mines where there are mountains, fuel where there are forests. The distinction used to be so clear-cut to me: love and appreciation versus want and calculation.

My mom told me that if someone loves me, it doesn't make him incapable of hurting me: it means he can hurt me more. I took that saying as being cold, and was angry with my mom for thinking like that, for trying to make me think like that. _Villain thinking_, I called it in my heart: love as a weakness.

Whoever said villains have to be always wrong? After all, moms have a tendency of being right.

Rangers love, right? And love is a Good Thing. Love makes us Rangers, even, if you'll go so far.

Bullshit.

* * *

We used to have a lot of axioms about Rangers' lives. One of them was "Rangers date Rangers": not so much because we didn't try to date anyone else, but more because we couldn't keep up a relationship with anyone else. The nasties on the moon kept a watch, and had a tendency of sending in the monster five seconds flat after the movie started. One or three dates like that, and that would be it. Another reason for Rangers to date Rangers was that we had so much more in common with each other than with anyone else: good lord, but they were _children_ compared to us. Maybe that was a good thing – I doubt many child development experts would think that facing death on a near-daily basis is a good thing for a bunch of teenagers – but it still made for an impressive gap. Whatever the reasons, though, we turned to each other: who else would understand? We turned to each other also because – cliché again – it is next to impossible not to love someone with whom you fight side by side.

Dating aside, the shared secret of being Power Rangers made it too hard to find common ground with non-Rangers. How we wished that it would not be a secret, so that it would not estrange us! I don't think any of us anticipated that the secret would estrange us to one another, but this is what happened. Rangers who left turned to other interests, covering up the tracks that might lead to their Ranger lives. We had to keep up the appearance of being nothing more than a bunch of high school friends, and it seems that the habit of secrecy was engraved into us deeper than any other of our Rangering experiences. To put it simply, we turned apart. We became who we might have been had we not become Rangers.

The forced isolation that made us so close when we were active Rangers disappeared. We could do what we wanted, when we wanted, without being summoned to battle; the hardness that war taught us faded away, because young people heal so easily it is frightening; and suddenly, we did not have as much in common with one another as we had before. We kept in touch, though: to honour what we shared by not forgetting. Even now I honour that ideal: watch as I think in the plural form even after breaking away from the collective.

We didn't _drift_ apart: 'drifting' suggests passiveness, and we were – are - everything but. Each of us stirred him- or herself down the path each of us chose for her or his lives. Naturally, those paths led in many different directions, as many as us. The speed with which our group dispersed was both alarming and relieving: alarming, because 'togetherness' had been the rock of our existence; 'relieving', because the weight of the world is heavy to bear.

My first weeks after leaving Rangerhood behind were very much like the first weeks after becoming a Ranger: nightmares, sudden nausea attacks and a strong feeling of disorientation. By the time the fourth month rolled in, though, I looked back at the life I had had and shuddered. For the first time I realized how young most of us had to be to dare assume that responsibility – young, or guilt-ridden. I realized that it wasn't just the deeply-rooted dictate of secrecy that drove us apart, but also all that life force that had accumulated, dormant, when we served.

* * *

Tommy went for the track when we finished high school – when we retired. Adrenaline is as hard a drug as any, and it takes time to kick off. So he drove for a while, and despite the ocean between him and me, we were together – we loved, and it the made the effort possible and worthwhile. I didn't want Tommy at the track, not at all: it was dangerous, and risky, and too much – too much like not moving on; like refusing to change. So when, after a year, Tommy thanked his uncle and left the track and signed up for college, I was happy. I thought we made it past the crisis – past _a_ crisis: I wasn't so naïve as to think it was the only crisis we would ever face. I thought if we made it through one year, through the first, hardest year, then we'll make it all the way through.

Tommy discovered biology one year into college. _Biology, of all subjects on Earth!_ I thought. The eternal athlete had fallen in love with science, it seemed, and he babbled about parsimony trees and point-mutations rates, and other words which I have lost track of. He pursued it with the zeal once reserved for fighting. It seemed he loved biology for what it was – is there another way to love something, other than for what it is?

Tommy: he finished his B.Sc. in two and a half years when it should've taken four. I was proud: my man, who would let nothing stop him, who would let nothing slow him down, who would achieve miracles if so he wishes. I was proud when he told me that he was accepted into a Ph.D. program right away, and laughed when he told me he'd be studying dinosaurs. Dinosaurs and genetic engineering! Tommy thought it hilarious, too, though in a different sense of the word: the genetic molecular characteristic made for a wonderful, possibly groundbreaking basic research, Tommy told me excitedly, a fantastic subject for a Ph.D. thesis, one that might give him an international reputation.

So Tommy graduated from college, and traveled all over the world with the digging expedition; I graduated from the Ballet Academy and traveled all over the world with the company; yet we found the time, we always found the time, to meet and spend time and even live together for short whiles, between stops. Not an easy life, not at all, but we were so certain that it would become better with time: that Tommy's frantic traveling would cease once he became a doctor, that with time I'd be able to take longer breaks between tours. It wasn't easy and it wasn't half as glorious as it may seem, but it seemed possible.

* * *

One day he called from Arizona – I was in Darwin – to tell me that he loved me so much; the greeting arrived in my email box later that day; three days later he boarded the plane, and within another day we met. Tommy: with that light in his eyes, and the stride I can still recognize from a hundred yards, and a presence compelling like one of the old prophets. He swept me off my feet in a hug, and did not take his hands off for hours after we arrived in my hotel room. He fell asleep with a look of heavenly bliss on his face, like one who had returned home or who had found the meaning of his existence.

He told me when he woke, how his life was beginning again; I cried, and he thought it was from happiness; I slapped him. We argued, we yelled. He left, got his own room. He called me the next day, and the one after it, and the next, until I left Darwin for Bohn. I never called, and at some point he stopped calling. But I still keep his ring on my finger.

I hear there's a new group of Rangers in a California town, now. I hear that their zords are Tyrannosaurus, Triceratops and Pterodactyl. Dinosaurs, all three of them; but the Pterodactyl isn't pink, and that clenches the irony. Always the heart of the team, pink Rangers: the ones ready with a smile and a hand, the ones who only dirty their hands with the fighting because their friends are there. No pink on Tommy's team, though, and that is hardly surprising.

The difference between a Ranger and a villain is that Rangers love, yes? Look at the perpetual Ranger: his fiancée alone in a darkened hotel room, writing in an old notebook and furiously wiping tears away.


	7. Continuity

_1. Would you believe this one wasn't planned? The idea struck me out of nowhere in the middle of class, and when I realized the date I just had to ask Roie for a speedy beta._

_2. This story in "Aftermath" is called "**Continuity**"._

_Review, please?_

* * *

**Project: Aftermath**

_Tommy Oliver

* * *

_

"Note to self", grumbled Jonathan as he pulled into his grandparents' driveway. "Never, ever celebrate not being attacked on a holiday eve, 'cause we'll get our butts kicked on the holiday itself". He stared darkly into the night. They'd really roughed it out this time – the megazord took its worst beating yet, and Lenna barely managed to bring it back online in time. It was a close shave, and on Christmas day, too… Jonathan tightened his coat about his as he swung out of the car, and not because of the cold. Some days being a Ranger was a pain.

As he stepped on the porch he noticed that the living room lights were the only ones his grandparents had left, meaning that at least one of them was already asleep. They left only the biometric lock, though, and it let him in without a problem. "Granddad? Grandma?" he called softly.

"In here" said his grandfather, his voice carrying easily in the quiet house.

Jonathan followed his voice into the living room. His granddad was sitting on the sofa, with Ben curled up beside him, asleep. He raised his eyes to Johnny's. "Come and sit down", he told him, "and take off this coat"

He was in for a telling, Jonathan knew. He came to pick Ben up hours ago, but had to bail because his morpher went off. Now he was inexcusably late, and it would be hell explaining it to his parents. Assuming, of course, he would survive his granddad's interrogation.

"How're you doing at school"

Jonathan blinked away his surprise. This wasn't one of the questions he expected, and his granddad asked it like it wasn't a question, either. "Okay, I guess", he said.

"Really", muttered his granddad. "I understand your grades did a drop a while ago"

"They picked up since"

"Naturally". He looked at Jonathan sideways. "You know you can talk to me, right, Johnny? About what's been going on?"

"Sure, granddad"

The old man snorted. "No, you don't. You don't know your history at all"

"Hey!" protested Jonathan. "My history grades were never that low"

"I'm not talking about school. I'm talking about _your_ history. _Our_ history"

"What?"

"Your grandmother fell asleep waiting for you", said his granddad, seemingly out of nowhere, "but she left me this to give to you. She wore it during our senior year, back when we were in high school"

Jonathan picked the silver pendant from his grandfather's fingers. "A pentagram?" he asked skeptically.

"A five-pointed star", agreed his granddad. "What can you tell me about it?"

"Well, it's usually considered to be a magical symbol. White magic when it's positioned with a ray pointing upwards, and black magic when it's positioned with a ray pointing downwards. It's also considered a symbol of humanity, because you can locate a person spreading their limbs on its rays"

"It was also the symbol of the red Zeo Ranger, some fourty-five years ago", said his granddad, shooting a quick, sharp look at the bewildered Jonathan. "What does that tell you?"

"Well…"

His granddad snorted again. "I hope your blue Ranger's got any smarts, 'cause you obviously don't"

Jonathan knew he looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but he couldn't help it. Did his granddad just say… _red Zeo Ranger, fourty-five years ago_. How old were his grandparents? They got together in high school, didn't they? _Your grandmother wore this during our senior year_.

"You and grandma… you were Rangers?"

"Yes, we were" said his grandfather, slowly and proudly.

"Wow"

His grandfather smiled. "That's what I thought, when your communicator went off, earlier", he agreed. "I called your parents when I saw on the news that you're going to be stuck for a while. Made your excuses"

Jonathan's smile was relieved. "Thanks, granddad"

"Anytime, Johnny. All Rangers look after each other, and us reds especially so". He stared thoughtfully at the fire. "Whatever happened to the archives?" he wondered. "We used to keep pretty good records: who served on which team and when, that kind of stuff. How come you don't know any of it?"

"Cialla knows her own planet's history. I don't think she knows much about Earth's"

"Cialla Zanassi? The visiting professor from the Nebula Exchange?"

"That's the one"

"She's your team's mentor?"

"Yeah. Long story"

His granddad laughed softly at that. "Aren't they all", he agreed. "Tell you want. Let put this little tike - " he nudged the sleeping Ben " – upstairs with his grandma, and then I'll make us some tea and we can exchange stories. How about that, huh?"

"You bet, granddad"

* * *

The had appeared on her doorstep with a can of homemade cookies and ready smiles, and Cialla didn't know what to make of them. Jonathan's grandparents have been sitting in her living room for a few hours, now, and she still didn't understand why - they claimed they came because they didn't want her to be lonely on a holiday, but that didn't make much sense to her. She was ambivalent about their presence: on the one hand, they were good conversation and she really was grateful for the company – but on the other hand, she couldn't shake the feeling that the nice, elderly couple had an ulterior motive that had very little to do with Christmas cookies.

"Some things never change", agreed Thomas wisely as she related another classroom tale; she had a ready listener in this retired teacher who never lost his love for the profession. "This is what Kat and I were like as students; this is what my students were like, when I first began teaching; so it figures Jonathan and his lot would be just the same, too"

"Thank you for watching out for them", said Katherine softly. "You must be a great teacher. Jonathan speaks very highly of you"

Thomas grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like: "He should".

"Thank you for coming" she told them earnestly as she walked them to the door a while later. "Sometime I forget to notice how lonely I am, this far from home"

"You're welcome", said Thomas. "We figured as much. You can call us if ever you need anything, or just company…"

"Or cookies", interjected Kat.

"Or cookies", agreed Thomas. "Call us whenever, okay?"

She didn't notice the data stick until later, when she picked up the dishes. It was lying on the coffee table. She picked it up, thinking that she should call the Olivers, but then she noticed the stylized lightning bolt engraved on it and nearly dropped it in surprise. She inserted it into the reader, and watched the first thirty minutes in silence, her hand pressed against her mouth, before pausing the recording and calling the Olivers'.

Tommy answered her call almost immediately. His face smiled mischievously at her from the screen. "So you found your copy of the archives, I see", he greeted her.

"How did you know?" she demanded. "Jonathan should've known better than to tell you!"

"He didn't; I figured it out when his communicator went off earlier. How come you're using our old ringtone?"

"Got it from an old documentary", she admitted.

"I knew we shouldn't have agreed to those"

She shook her head, torn between anger and amusement at this old human, so much like herself. "Now I know where Jonathan got his overdeveloped sense of drama from"

"And don't you forget it"

"Oh, believe me. I won't"


	8. Firedance

_1. The core idea for this story had been given to me by walutahanga. Thanks, girl!_

_2. Love: to Roie and Camille, friends and beta readers._

_3. This story in "_Project: Aftermath_" is called **"Firedance"**._

**Project: Aftermath**

_Zack Taylor_

* * *

"Ow!" Zack pulled back his hand from the kettle and shook it furiously. "That hurt," he complained to the empty kitchen. "No fair." He grabbed a towel and used it to hold the kettle as he poured the hot water into the mug. He had no idea what kind of tea it was – he just grabbed a random bag out of one of Trini's boxes. The girl drank the oddest infusions sometimes, but he sniffed the bag and it smelt okay, so it would probably taste okay, too. He put the kettle back on the stove, picked his mug and carried it to the common room, where he'd left his book.

The common was deserted, obviously, as it was something like two-thirty in the morning. He'd really better get out of this insomnia phase fast, because it'd been a week since he last slept a whole night through. Either he woke during the night, or he couldn't fall asleep for hours; and once he woke up, he couldn't fall asleep again. So instead of tossing and turning in his bed and possibly waking up his roommates, he got up, stole one of Trini's teabags - 'cause the girl drank only the caffeine-free stuff - and sat down in the common with a good book; namely, Three Men in a Boat. Where was he? Right, chapter eleven.

He snickered into the remains of his tea as he read about Harris making breakfast. It was too much like Jason – last time the guy tried to boil eggs it ended with the eggs stuck to the ceiling. He skimmed over the historical musing and finished the chapter – and the tea – with a frown. Something was bugging him about Harris and Montmorency and the frying pan, and he couldn't put his finger on it. He put the book down on the sofa and went back to the kitchen to prepare some more tea.

The kettle had cooled off in the meantime, so Zack refilled it and turned the stove on again. Trying Jerome's method of making the kettle boil faster by not looking at it, he looked at every other thing in the room until his eyes landed on his burnt thumb, and he smiled. He mimicked reaching out for the stove and jumping back a couple of times. Yes, it did look like some kind of tribal dancing. He could probably make a proper choreography for it, if he tried. 'Modern Men's Dance to the God of Fire' – should be funny.

The kettle whistled. Zack grabbed the towel, turned off the stove and discovered that he had forgotten to get a new teabag. He picked one out of the same box as before, not bothering to sniff it this time, dropped it in the mug and poured the hot water over it.

He put the kettle back on the stove. What was he thinking about when it whistled? Right, choreography He picked his mug and headed out of the kitchen. He couldn't remember when was the last time he choreographed anything. Actually, come to think about it – he slowed down and paused as the thought hit him – when was the last time he had danced? He couldn't remember. It had been a while – everything had been so hectic since they left –

- Angel Grove. The going-away party. Two and a half months ago. That was the last time he had danced, and his heart hadn't exactly been into it that night; but he had danced anyway, because he was leaving home and he would not let this party be the one party where the Zack-man didn't show his moves…

… homesickness crashed down on him like it hadn't since the first two weeks, when everyone constantly hung out by the phone, before things settled down and their new friendships became substantial. He hadn't felt like dancing since home. He hadn't thought of dancing all this while. Abruptly, he realized that he was standing in the hall, and resumed walking. So okay, that was odd. It couldn't be the stress – he had made it through a year and a half of being a Power Ranger without the stress affecting him this way. Heck, he'd practically danced his way through life back then – he tap-danced from his locker to his classes, he adapted dance moves for battle use. And now, he hadn't wanted to dance in almost three months. What…?

He put the mug on the coffee table, straightened and examined his burnt thumb again. He was going to get a blister on this one. He pushed aside the sofas and the beanbags, and cleared himself some space in the middle of the room. How did it go, now? Lean forward, leap backwards, spin around… damnit, now he was homesick again. He closed his eyes and stood still, letting the memories wash over him until he began to move again, his body finding its own moves, slow and uncoordinated as they were. It wasn't dancing as he usually thought of it. What it was, though, he had no idea, so he let his body express what he already knew. If he'd let this flow, maybe he could sleep again.

His movement wasn't so jarring, now; those were moves he knew like his own name – the old hiphop routine that was his trademark.

The next moment he stood absolutely still, hardly breathing. His mind had caught up with his body. This wasn't the dance floor version of the moves – this was the battlefield one. The moves were similar, but he had never before used the battle version unless specifically intending to.

It scared him beyond what he could rationalize. The entire thing freaked him out for no reason whatsoever. He only wanted to make a funny dance, and somehow found himself reminiscing; and now his subconscious was playing games with him, and the entire setting was unnerving. He wasn't fighting for his life, anymore. He slammed his fists down on his knees, bending over them.

What was _wrong_ with him tonight?

He forced himself to straighten, but now the flow was lost. He couldn't continue from where he'd stopped before. He had to find the thread again. This time, though, his body didn't supply the moves on its own. He closed his eyes against the room, flatly refusing to cry. He would not cry. He would dance it. Eyes still closed, he started matching motion and emotion. He examined this improvised routine as he had his old routine when he'd adopted it for battle. He searched for a way to connect the two routines, built the sequence in his head and then began executing it. This time he knew to expect the tension that came with the readiness to strike, but the suddenness with which it appeared was still alarming. This time he didn't pause altogether at the change but rather stretched it, holding it, but the state refused to collapse unto itself. Then the memory unfolded.

_A lizard needs to keep warm to stay alive_. They had sat in the juice bar, way back in the early days. Jason made fun of him for using dancelike moves in combat, and Trini responded with a fable. _It stands on a rock in the sun to keep warm. But the rock is very hot, and the lizard has to lift first one foot, and then the other, so as not to get burned. To the observer it would seem that the lizard is dancing, but it is only trying to stay alive._

_Fire…_ If Zack's eyes had been open, he would've closed them then. He wasn't really ready to face this right now; all the tiredness from the past week made itself known. Forcing himself to break the stance, he also forced his eyes open. He collapsed on the sofa that was nearest to where he'd pushed the table. Using both hands to steady the mug, he took a sip. It was lukewarm, but drinkable. Maybe, if he got lucky, it was even chamomile; it wasn't anything fruity, in any case.

There was still a third of the liquid left when it became just too cold. Zack swirled it for a moment, decided it wasn't really worth it and placed the mug back on the table. He pushed himself up and stretched; the common looked like a rampaging rhino had blasted through it.

He rearranged the common so that it sort of resembled what it had looked before. He left the book where it lay and was tempted to leave the mug, too, but ended up returning it to the kitchen and washing it. He put it on the drying rack and looked at the clock, toweling his hands as he did so. Half past three. He could still get a couple of hours of sleep, if he hurried. He left the towel by the sink and made his way back to his room.

Later, he'd clearly remember walking from the room down the hall to the floor's kitchen, but the distance from the kitchen back to his room seemed no longer than a single step; then his hand was on the doorknob and he was looking at the sign that hung on their door. Most everyone made door signs, and there was an informal competition over who had the coolest-looking door. He let go of the doorknob and traced the edges of the cardboard. They really needed to make a new one. The guys from room 204 were working on something that looked huge, and it was enough that Sven screwed their team over in debate – they were not going to let him have the coolest sign on the floor.

It would wait until morning, though.


	9. Two for Two

_1. **Warning:** character death. I'll go hide in the nuclear bunker now, okay?_

_2. **Love:** to the following wonderful friends - Roie (who told me to write the last scene), Camille and Mara (who beta'ed) and Sara (who suggested the title)._

_3. This story in "Aftermath" is titled **"Two for Two"**._

_Enjoy, and please review!_

* * *

**Project: Aftermath**

_Billy Cranston

* * *

_

He paused at the door. The floor of the dome stretched before him, wide and smooth. The filtered sunlight coming through the glass ceiling cast ghostlike flickers across the dark surface. The funeral dome was empty, save for the motionless figure lying on the stone pedestal in the center of it, and the woman in widow's clothes sitting by the pedestal, one arm falling loosely by the side of her body, her other hand holding the pedestal's edge and her forehead leaning against the back of that hand.

This funeral dome was one of the largest and oldest. Large enough for a crowd of several hundred, old enough that the walls hadn't been perfectly polished when it was built. The floor, too, must have been somewhat rough when it was first built; since then it had been polished into smoothness by the feet of many thousands of mourners over the centuries. The man standing in the doorway had never attended a funeral here before: this dome was old and sacred, and it lay under the Eternal Falls. It was up to the Keeper to inform families that the funeral of the deceased may be held here. It was a rare honour.

His bare feet made little noise as he crossed the distance to the mourning woman, and paused at a respectable distance behind her. The sound of their breath – his even, hers somewhat labored – was the only sound in the dome for several moments, before he broke the silence.

"The sun has risen."

She said nothing.

"It is time for calls to be made, if his funeral is to be held here today."

She raised her head, and after a moment turned to him. His heart ached to see how the purple bulges on her forehead had lost most of their usually rich colour, the golden plate surrounding them had faded into a sickly hue. Their kind did not cry. "I would have you call those who would normally be notified. But not yet."

"They will be awaiting the call," he pointed out. Tradition demanded that the funeral be held before the sun set again.

"His family must be notified first."

He didn't understand. "You are his family."

Her eyes held all her reproach. "He had a family before me." Gracefully she rose to her feet, her clothes not rustling on the floor at all. "I will make them the offer… but the choice is theirs."

Still he did not understand. "You are his chosen one."

"Yes." The word was barely more than a sigh. "Yet I am not the only one who has a claim on his life – or death." She shook her head. "Hold the calls, if they come."

"And should the callers ask for an explanation, what should I tell them?"

"Tell them… to prepare their starships."

* * *

The call came at night, and at first she didn't realize what it was that woke her up. When she recognized the sound, though, she got out of bed and padded to the corridor. She lit the small lamp by the comm. board, and touched the keyboard. The holographic flowers – so solid-looking that she was still tempted to touch them from time to time - winked out of the alcove, and another woman's face appeared.

"Greetings, Trini."

Trini's heart missed a beat. Cestria _knew_ what time it was at Trini's time zone. "Greetings, Cestria," she answered.

Cestria hesitated, seemingly at an atypical loss for words. "Dawn has broken over the Eternal Falls," she said finally. "I must inform you that…" Cestria's voice broke.

In all their years of friendship, Trini had never heard Cestria's voice break; the Aquitian had always been restrained to a fault, her true emotions only showing under extreme stress. Trini's mind could only come up with one explanation for this atypical behaviour. "It's Billy, isn't it," she whispered. "It's finally happened." She didn't have to wait for Cestria to say anything – she could see it in her eyes, in the tightening of her lips. "Oh my god."

"He passed in his sleep. I… was there to see it happen. It was as quiet a passing as any could wish for."

Trini nodded slowly. Billy's passing hadn't exactly been expected, but it hadn't come out of the blue, either. He and Cestria had visited Earth several time a year for the first twenty years or so, until Cestria´s health prevented her from traveling; Earth's climate was harsh even for young Aquitians, and near deadly as they grew older. Billy continued to visit, though, and Trini tried to make it to Aquitar at least once a year. They maintained that routine for just over two more decades, but in the past couple of years Billy's lungs began to trouble him, the cost of the constant travels finally showing; the frequency of his visits lessened. The dynamic genius rebelled against the medical verdict, and had taken to assessing his condition himself, but came up with the same results. He hadn't been to Earth in over a year.

"By the tradition of my people, his funeral should be held before dusk today."

Trini started thinking fast. "I have to call Tommy now – we'll need transport - "

"Trini."

The human paused.

"I'm not sure if he should be buried here," said Cestria softly. "It doesn't seem quite…_right._"

"Oh, Cestria… you don't have to."

"But I want to. He loved Earth and he loved you all as family, Trini. For me to take him away in his death would be a shame to his life."

"So would be burying him so far away from you." Cestria wouldn't be able to visit Billy's grave, should he be buried on Earth.

Cestria spread her arms – a human gesture she had adopted over the years. "We cannot have him buried on both planets, can we?"

Trini hesitated. She had never asked Billy or Cestria about the Aquitian burial rituals, and now she deeply regretted it. "What if…" How would this suggestion come across to someone who was essentially amphibian? "We could cremate him," suggested Trini, "and separate the ashes into two vases - if it's okay with your traditions."

Cestria hesitated, too. "We do not burn the dead on Aquitar," she said finally, "but there are no objections to it that I can think of. Is it accepted in Earth culture?"

"In some."

"Do you think Billy, and his blood family, would accept the cremation of his body?"

"I think so. I believe Billy's mother was cremated, in her time."

"Was she?" That seemed to take some of the load off of Cestria's shoulders. "We need to make the arrangements, then."

* * *

It was mostly a blur after that: calling Tommy first and asking him to arrange for a ship, driving to Jason's house because she couldn't bear to tell him over the comm., the three-hour ride to Aquitar and the long walk into the bowels of the island that felt like a walk into grief itself. Most of the ceremony was lost in the haze of grief too – too many speeches, too many rituals Trini did not understand the meaning of. Finally, though, Cestria had left with Billy's body to oversee the cremation process; Jason accompanied her, representing Billy's 'family', as Cestria insisted on referring to them. They had taken with them the two vases – Cestria's coral-like vase, and the blue china vase Trini had brought.

Trini felt as though they'd been gone for hours, even though her watch told her otherwise. Finally, though, the crowd parted, revealing the two figures stepping from the entry of the dome to the center, where Trini and the others were waiting. Something was different – she knew that the moment she saw them, but wasn't able to pinpoint _what_ until Jason and Cestria covered half the distance; and when Trini finally realized what it was she was seeing, it brought fresh tears to her eyes.

Two vases, two planets – that was what she and Cestria agree on; a vase for each of Billy's homes. But Cestria was the one carrying the china vase, and Jason carrying the Aquitian vase. Trini didn't realize that Cestria would switch the vases. _Yes_, she thought, accepting a fresh tissue from Kim. _Billy would've loved this.

* * *

_

_**A/N:** bear with me for one mor moment, folks. I still need an idea for a Rocky story. Tanya and Adam are pretty covered, so Rocky is the one big gap. If any of you find an idea which you think would work good for an "Aftermath" Rocky story, i'd love to hear about it._


	10. Roundtrip

_1. **Warning:** possibly disturbing themes ahead. Specific warning not given so as not to spoil a plot point. (Not violence or sexual themes.) _

_2. **Love:** to Camille (cmar) and Mara Aoife, friends and beta readers. Also to Melody, who will know why if she ever reads this._

_3. This story in "Aftermath" is titled **"Roundtrip"**._

_Enjoy, and please review!_

* * *

**Project: Aftermath**

_Rocky Desantos

* * *

_

Waking up in the middle of the night sucked. Rocky lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Shadows rustled through the curtains, playing on the walls of his room. No point. He rolled on his side, carefully sat up, fluffed his knee pillow and lay down again. It was better with the pillow fluffed up to full height, but his back still hurt. He hated not being able to fall asleep on his side, but if he didn't want to take more painkillers than was healthy then he had to go to sleep lying on his back, with a pillow under his knees to help support his lower back.

He rolled on his side again. No point. _Might as well get a snack._ He got up. He'd left the door to his room open when he'd gone to sleep, so that spared him the noise of opening it. His bare feet made no noise as he crept downstairs and into the kitchen. Quietly, he opened the fridge door. _Hmm, pizza._ He put the cold pizza on the kitchen counter, dragged a stool over, sat down and began munching.

What day was tomorrow? Wednesday. Wednesday was Little Angel's Haven day. He'd resumed volunteering there as part of restarting his old routine. He was still limited in what he could do, unable to either run around with the kids or sit down for prolonged periods helping them with homework, but the staff welcomed him back anyway. Tomorrow being Wednesday also meant he'd be seeing Justin and Kat. Well, not necessarily, as they had their own schedules, but he usually got to see Justin. Kat didn't volunteer on Wednesdays, more often than not. He didn't resent Kat for that. No point.

He got up and opened the fridge again. _Gratin. Why not. And leftover curry chicken._

He remembered when Kim had left. They could see it coming a mile away, of course. None of them was blind. The qualifications for the Pan Globals, Coach Schmidt's visit, Kim's excitement – all the signs were there. Yet they didn't speak of it. If somebody dared allude to what may happen, the conversation died and a hush fell over them until somebody else started a new topic, preferably something as safe as homework. Maybe Kim and Tommy spoke about it, when nobody else was around. No point. They had ignored Kim's imminent departure until she was already gone.

Only then did he understand.

He finished the gratin and he needed a side dish for the chicken. He opened the fridge again, closed it, and cut a couple slices of bread.

He remembered when Jason, Zack and Trini had left. He remembered Aisha that night, as the three of them sat in Adam's parents' living room with popcorn and movies they didn't truly watch, wondering out loud how could Kim and Billy not resent the three of them. "We're practically taking the place of three of their best friends," she had said, "doesn't this seem weird to you guys?"

No point.

_Hey, I didn't know Mom made meatballs. Goes just fine with the bread._

He didn't understand until Kim had left, until the first time they returned to the Command Centre and demorphed and it was Kat standing there, hesitantly tucking her hair behind her ears, and her eyes grey with the same question Aisha had asked: _don't you hate me for taking her place?_

He felt nothing but compassion for her, then, knowing how the responsibility didn't really sink in until after the first battle, just wanting to ease the transition for her. He saw the same reaction in the others, everybody reaching out to her. No way could he resent the person who had just fought side by side with him, who he knew would risk her life for him because she'd just done so. No point. But the person who'd left, though…

He understood then why Kim and Billy didn't resent Adam, Aisha and him when they had become Rangers. You didn't resent the ones who stepped up. You resented the ones who abandoned their guard. You forgave them for that, eventually, because they were friends and you wanted them to be happy, but for the longest while, you resented them for caring about something else more than they did for duty. You hated them because it wasn't _duty_ to them anymore, and it still was to you.

He almost hated Kim in that moment, as he told a joke, as Tommy stood a little closer to Kat, Aisha replied to him in kind, and after a few moments Kat's eyes were blue again.

_Soup's no good cold. Maybe some jam? I've had enough of bread. Hey, sausages._

As much as Kim was hard, it was nothing compared to how he'd felt when Aisha had left. It was on a totally different scale. Nothing he'd been through until then had prepared him for it. It wasn't so much the hurt of a friend leaving – without warning, without preparation, just turning her back and leaving – it wasn't even the feeling of having a part of his past, a part of his childhood, of himself, ripped away; it was the impossible anger at someone who had laid down her weapons and quit, who had abandoned a cause he still believed in, still fought for, would still give his life for. It wasn't the abandonment per se: she'd sent Tanya, after all. She didn't leave them a Ranger short.

But he hated Aisha in that moment, looking at another girl whose eyes asked how could he not resent her. And it'd been a while before he fully understood that, before he really got what was so hurtful about the situation.

No point.

_Roast. Pickles. Potatoes._

It was the message her leaving sent. That being a Ranger wasn't enough, wasn't important enough, that service was a burden and not a duty, a sacred right. And that, coming from a friend, from someone whose opinion he valued – that tore his heart out of his chest. And if he managed to forgive her that, for a moment, he was shaken by disappointment with her, that she'd left them with a stranger, that she didn't care enough about any of them to return.

No point, no point.

_Jam, peanut butter – damn, I'm almost out of bread._

So he didn't resent Kat for avoiding him. He understood. He didn't resent Tanya or Tommy for always being so busy. He told Adam, "It's okay, I know," and meant it when Adam had apologized, yet again. Rocky knew, after all, that they needed the healing time, too.

But fuck it, he didn't ask for this. He didn't want this. He didn't have some grand aim in life which being a Ranger got in the way of. He got cocky, took a fall, and found himself in the hospital with two cracked vertebrae. He was damn lucky for being a Ranger – those first twenty-four hours with a morpher still on his wrist had saved him from the worst long-term implications of his injury. The doctors thought that the cracks the initial x-ray had shown were just a shadow, because they weren't visible in the second shot they took, two days later, and cracked bones didn't heal that fast, did they?

He didn't give the morpher to Justin because he'd had enough. He didn't give the morpher to Justin because there was something that came to matter to him more than his duty as a Power Ranger. He gave the morpher to Justin precisely because he wanted what was best for the team.

No point.

Rocky stared at the kitchen: the carton box that had held the pizza, plates everywhere, now-empty plastic boxes…

He was glad for the toilet downstairs. He'd been grateful for that tiny room almost every night. It saved him from having to run upstairs and lessened the chances of anyone hearing him. He was yet to learn how to throw up silently.

When it was finally over he leaned against the toilet seat, resting his head against the cool wall.

No point, no point in the whole thing. He'd still left them. They knew, as well as he did, that he'd done the best thing he could under the circumstances. That even with the morpher he would've taken time to heal, time they didn't have. The team needed five able members. The guys knew it same as he did, but this thing wasn't rational. There was nothing rational about the feeling of someone not watching your back, anymore. Knowing why he did that would maybe help them forgive him faster, but they needed to heal from this, too.

His fingers twitched. Knowing all this had only made it harder for him. He was angry at his teammates – former teammates – for not helping him out; for having that hurt in their eyes when they looked at him. His anger wasn't rational either, anger both at them and, even if he only admitted it at these hours of the night, at himself, for making that slip, for not dragging himself out of the hospital bed…

He dragged himself up, waited for his head to clear, washed his mouth, washed up the mess he'd made and returned to the kitchen. The smell of food made him nauseous, but he ignored it and cleaned everything up before returning upstairs. He considered taking a painkiller before heading back to bed, but gave up on the idea. Those pills weren't meant to be taken on an empty stomach, anyway.


	11. Coda

_1. One before last! And Adam's _Aftermath_ story is already in beta'ing process. We're talking a 16,000 words novella, so it may take a few weeks, but overall? This is it._

_2. The 'song' used in this story is mostly adapted from the lyrics to PR theme song seasons 1-4 and MMPR: the movie. You can find the original lyrics at stlyrics dot com._

_3. Love: to Camille (cmar) and Mara, my wonderful beta readers._

_4. This story in "_Aftermath_" is titled "**Coda**"._

_Enjoy, and please review!_

* * *

**Project: Aftermath**

_Tanya Sloan_

* * *

The summer air was warm and scented. The sun already hung low on the horizon, spilling deep golden light over the Angel Grove park. The thousands gathered in the park shifted and murmured, creating a low noise, like the waves of the ocean. They were waiting for the main event to begin.

A flicker of colour appeared in the corner of the stage. The crowd fell silent for a moment, and then erupted in cheers as they recognized the woman. She stepped to the front and center of the stage and halted, patiently waiting for the cheers to subside. Her yellow dress practically shone against the brightly-coloured stage.

"Good evening, Angel Grove!" she called. She smiled into the microphone as she was answered with more cheers. "My name is Tanya Sloan, and I am proud to host Power Rangers Day of 2004!"

* * *

_Against the darkness  
__In the name of the light  
__Against the darkness  
__In the name of the light  
__They are coming  
__They are rising  
__They are rising_

* * *

She saw Cheryl enter the control room but she didn't pay too much attention to it. Her manager would often come there, often bringing her paperwork with her – "For company", she said. It was nothing unusual, too, when she leaned over the shoulder of one of the techs, speaking to him. When Tanya finished the take, though, Cheryl spoke into the mike. "Tanya, could you come out here for a second?"

"Sorry for pulling you out", she apologized once both of them were in the hall, "but they wanted response real quick and I thought you'd love this."

"You thought I'd love what?"

"You're originally from Angel Grove, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I got a call from the mayor's office couple of minutes ago. They're going to hold a – Power Rangers Day? – in a couple of months. They probably want you because you're a local girl. There's going to be plenty of media there – plenty of publicity for you right before your tour starts."

"A Power Rangers Day? What's the occasion? It has to be, like, ten years since the previous one, and there's hasn't been Rangers in Angel Grove for – what? Six years? Since the space team."

"I didn't ask, really," Cheryl shrugged. "If it's ten years then maybe they're holding a special anniversary or something. But they did ask we get back to them quick. Apparently there are already rumors flying around, and they can afford to choose. So, you want this gig or not?"

"Yeah." Tanya took a deep breath. "Hell yeah, I'm in."

* * *

_They've got  
__A power and force that you've never seen before  
__They've got  
__The ability to morph and even up the score  
__Forever  
__They are champions of the light  
__Forever  
__They will fight for what is right_

* * *

_Tap, tap_, tapped her pen against the writing pad. The room was empty and dimly lit. Normally she preferred to have people bustling around when composing but this was different, somehow. For once in her life she felt that she couldn't think with other people around. She could never explain to the people she worked with now just what this song meant to her.

_Tap, tap_. Being invited to host Power Rangers Day was enough of an honour. Being asked to write a song for the occasion was something else entirely. She had agreed immediately, without having to think. She wanted to do this – now that she was handed this task, she knew that she had wanted to do this for years but couldn't. Now it was different – she was different; and trying to reconcile the two views kept her staring at an empty sheet.

_Tap, tap_. The rhythm changed, she noticed. She was no longer tapping a constant rhythm but a distinct one. What was that? She was sure she had heard it before. She continued tapping, and slowly the image resolved. The Power Chamber, so many years ago. This was the rhythm of their old communicators. She had once asked Billy why he picked it, and he only shrugged and said it was catchy.

_Tap_. The pen hovered over the page. _Catchy, huh?_ She thought. She drew the six notes at the top of the page, and stared at it for a moment before she began to write.

* * *

_Stronger and faster and higher  
__Stronger and faster and higher  
__Go! Go, Power Rangers!_

* * *

The sun had already set, but the stage lights blinded Tanya to most of her surroundings. She could hear the crowd, though, and she could see the lights they were waving: some candles and lighters, but mostly sticklights – coloured sticklights.

This was it. This was her moment. She took a deep breath, and started on the first verse, carefully drawing out the syllables: "Against the darkness…"

The band was silent for the first verse. Only her voice echoed across the park.

"They are rising," she repeated, pausing for half a second before the second verse, and the band kicked in. She couldn't help but grin as she moved to the beat and continued singing – she'd done this routine countless times in rehearsals, but this was the real thing, and it was as exhilarating as she had ever imagined it. It was just the music, her crowd and her, now – and the people she kept in mind as she sang, the people for whom she wrote this.

* * *

_Rising higher than before  
__Powered up for more  
__Stronger than before  
__Rangers to the core  
__Go! Go, Power Rangers!_


	12. Petty Wars

_1. In the beginning there was this story. Then there was Trini-in-Israel story, and I realized the two have a common theme. I contemplated the idea of making a project out of the theme, and decided that only if I found an idea for a third story. Then the weekend magazine had a title with the golf term Mulligan in it._

_2. So this story had been six years in the making. Unlike the other stories in this collection, it's not a miniature but a full-sized novella. This is a special moment to me.  
_

_3. **Credit where it's due: **the kernel of inspiration for this story came from Dingo's _Never Lie_. The lyrics that frame the story - and provide the title - are from Joni Mitchell's song _Hejira_._

_4. **L**__**ove and Gratitude:** to Camille (cmar) and Mara Aoife, friends and beta readers. Extra thanks to: Dany (cobalt-blue) who helped pick Jamie's car, Camille (again) who helped with everything New York and highlander-bellflower, who told me about being a journalist._

_5. To stick to what is now tradition, I announce that this story in Project: Aftermath is called **"Petty Wars"**._

* * *

**Project: Aftermath**

_Adam Park_

* * *

"_I'm traveling in some vehicle  
__Sitting in some café  
__A defector from the petty wars  
That shell-shock love away."_

* * *

**(0) Away**

"Oh, hi Jason," said Rocky, opening the door. "Sorry it took me so long to answer the door, man. I completely forgot you're supposed to drop by."

"Forget it," answered Jason, stepping into Rocky's basement apartment. Rocky's deep frown didn't escape his eyes. "Everything all right?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." Rocky collapsed into the beanbag chair. He waved his hand. "Feel free."

Jason sat down on a chair.

"I just had the weirdest phone call from Tanya," said Rocky. "Ouch."

Jason raised a patient eyebrow, and waited for Rocky to continue.

"Adam broke up with her yesterday."

"He _what_?" Jason didn't even try to conceal his shock. Only a month before, at the yearly reunion, Adam and Tanya had seemed like a pair of lovebirds. "What happened?"

"No idea," said Rocky. "There were no signs; Adam's good like that."

"Wow." Jason leaned back in his chair.

"And that's not all," said Rocky darkly. "He quit his job, too."

"Well," said Jason again. "Just wow."

Rocky nodded. "Tanya was still too shocked to cry, when she called," he said.

"Should we drive over to LA?" suggested Jason.

"I asked her. She said she'd rather if we didn't."

Jason shook his head. "I wish I knew what happened."

"Only Adam knows."

* * *

**(1) Mirrors**

Nancy smiled when she saw the young Asian-looking man enter the diner, 7 a.m. sharp.

"Hi, Adam!" she called.

"Hi Nance," Adam answered. He walked over to the counter, and slid into a stool. Never the same one, she noted with some amusement. He was a regular – but he just wouldn't choose a regular seat.

"So, what will it be today?" she asked.

"Let me see." He surveyed the menu, written across the board in Nancy's neat script. "What's today's special?"

Nancy rolled her eyes. At least his order was predictable.

"Chili muffins."

"Suits me fine. And some Jasmine tea."

"Orange juice?"

"Why not."

"Right away." She was just about to turn, when her eyes caught something in the street. "Do I love classic design, or what?"

Adam turned around.

A Pontiac Firebird pulled up in front of the diner. The driver parked it carefully, got out, patted the white engine cover fondly, and went into the diner.

She was petite, almost childish. She wore a simple T-shirt and jeans, and her strawberry-blonde curls brushed against her shoulders. She went over and set a few stools from Adam. Close up, he could see that she had a milky way of light freckles across her mildly tanned face.

"Morning," she said, sliding into a stool and addressing Nancy.

"Morning," answered the surprised waitress. "What can I get you, Miss?"

The blonde took a brief look at the menu. "What's today's special?"

"Chili muffins."

"Who would have that for breakfast?"

"I would," said Adam, then bit his tongue.

She turned to him.

Adam remained silent as she studied his face for several long seconds.

"That desperate, huh?" she said finally, and snapped back to the awaiting Nancy: "I'll have your largest mug of hot chocolate and Penny's Pancake Pile. Who's Penny?"

"Penny's my aunt, and would you like maple syrup or hot chocolate sauce with your pancakes?"

"Definitely maple." She turned again to Adam. "What are you staring at?"

He said the first thing that came to his mind. "A girl worth talking to."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Worth talking to."

"Your call. What did you mean by desperate?"

"Just that."

"You think I'm desperate?"

"Aren't you?"

She wasn't flirting. The realization struck Adam and he swallowed. This girl wasn't fooling around with words; she wasn't trying to sound sophisticated. Her question and the intention behind it were honest and sincere.

"Perhaps we don't use the same meaning for this word," she said when he didn't reply. "I don't mean desperate as in…"

"I know what you mean," he said. His throat finally unblocked itself. "It just never occurred to me before."

Nancy was back with two steaming mugs, a well-timed distraction. Her eyes darted between Adam and the girl, and she decided to leave them to themselves.

Adam took a careful sip from his tea just as the girl sighed contently over her hot chocolate.

"I drove through the night," she explained. "I made it through the last hour by promising myself some hot chocolate."

"Not coffee?"

"Naw." She shook her head, barely keeping her hair from dipping in the mug, "Drinking coffee when tired spoils the fun of it."

"Finally, another sensible person."

She inhaled deeply before taking a sip, basking in the aroma. "You too?" she asked sheepishly.

He nodded, and felt a smile stretching across his face. He hadn't smiled for months; not a real smile, in any case.

"Okay, you are," she said.

"Am what?"

"Worth talking to."

He raised his mug. "To us?" he suggested.

"To us," she agreed, and they clicked the mugs.

* * *

Only when they stepped out did Adam realize that he had forgotten something important.

"I'm Adam," he said.

"Jamie." She looked up at the bright sky. "As much as I hate sleeping during daytime, I'm asleep on my feet. You wouldn't happen to know of a decent motel or B&B around here, do you?"

"The one I'm staying at is decent enough. It's two blocks down that way." He pointed down the road.

"You walk two blocks to get your breakfast?"

"I enjoy the exercise."

"So early in the morning?" She shook her mane. "Well, I don't. Why don't you hop in and show me the way?"

* * *

"You need help with your stuff?" asked Adam, as soon as Jamie finished the check-in.

"I can carry my own bags, thank you very much," she answered, somewhat irritably.

"I'm sure you can. There's no need to bite my head off," he said, holding up his hands as a token of surrender.

"Sorry," she said, shifting from annoyed to tired in a heartbeat. "I haven't slept for – what?" she glanced quickly at her watch. "Twenty-seven hours or so."

Meanwhile they reached her car. Jamie let Adam help her shoulder her frame pack – even if somewhat reluctantly.

"Why'd you drive all night?" he asked.

"For the fun of it." She lifted her duffel bag and closed the trunk. "No, 'fun' isn't the word."

"Never mind, I got your point."

"So why bother asking?"

"Could I know the answer if I didn't ask?"

She paused, thinking it over. "Maybe you couldn't," she said finally, "Doesn't matter, once you asked."

"Oh, come on," he said, snatching the duffel bag from her hand. "The fact that you _can_ carry this on your own doesn't mean that you _should._"

"You mean there's a difference?" asked Jamie jokingly, and shifted the conversation: "So, you've been here how long?"

"A week."

"Oh, so you probably know the area pretty well. Do you know if there's a nice park within _normal_ walking distance?"

"Sure, but aren't you going to sleep first?"

"Sure gonna, but I won't sleep all day."

"I can tell you where the park is, but how about we go together?" suggested Adam.

"We might," she said. "What's your room number?"

He told her. "Just knock on the door when you're ready," he added.

"Deal."

* * *

_Jamie_. Adam rolled the name in his mind as he unlocked his door. _Somehow I don't think it's her real name,_ he thought, dropping his keys on the table. _Must be a nickname. I wonder what for._

_She's just passing by_, he reminded himself firmly. _Just passing by. Don't get too excited about it_.

It registered with him that he had never bothered to take his stuff out of his bag.

_A week,_ he thought. _When I moved to Angel Grove, it took me less than a day to make my room look like I've always lived there. When Tanya and I moved to LA, it took just a couple of hours_. The thought invoked a dull pain, one that he quickly forced back with remembered panic: the cagey feeling that became a part of him. _What was wrong?_ He wondered for who knows how long. _Why'd I have to go away?_ Because there was no mistake: he'd had to leave. The panic forced him out of the life he had.

_Not my life_, he thought automatically. _It couldn't have been my life, or I wouldn't have left._ He went over and sat on the bed, covering his eyes with his fists.

_It couldn't have been my life, or I'd have stayed_.

* * *

Sure enough, Jamie knocked on his door at 4 p.m. sharp.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi. Why don't you come in while I put on my shoes? It'll only take a moment."

"Sure," she said, stepping in. Her eyes quickly surveyed the room, giving her next question a double edge: "So you're good to go?"

"Yes." He made a final tug on his laces, put his wallet in his pocket and grabbed the room's keys. "Shall we?"

* * *

"See, I told you it's only a five minute walk," said Adam. He and Jamie were standing at the last corner before the park, waiting for the traffic light to change.

Jamie nodded. "I never doubted you," she said.

The solemn tone of her voice made Adam smile. It was lopsided, but strangely enough, it seemed a testimony to the smile's honesty.

Jamie smiled in return, her smile fleeting and never reaching her eyes.

The traffic light changed its color, and the two crossed the road.

"It's a pretty big park," said Jamie casually as they walked around.

Adam shook his head. "Not really, but they did a very good job on it."

"Kind of reminds me of where I grew up," she said. "There was a park just over from where I lived."

"You hung out there a lot?"

"Not really."

"Come on," Adam said suddenly. Her wrist slipped out of his hand. "I want to show you something."

* * *

"It's supposed to be Japanese, right?" asked Jamie. Adam had taken her to a relatively hidden part of the park, which was designed in far-eastern style.

"Right," he said, moving to the center of the small lawn, away from the shadow of the trees. "You reminded me of this spot when you mentioned the place were you grew up. There was a spot very much like this one in the town where I lived."

"What are you doing?" asked Jamie.

Adam halted in the middle of a kata he didn't notice he'd started.

"I used to do martial arts," he said finally.

"Oh," said Jamie softly.

She hadn't asked about the "used to" part, but Adam felt that he owed an answer… to at least one of them.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," he said. It was suddenly hard to keep his voice stable. "I guess… I guess I miss it."

"I understand," said Jamie quietly. "Neverland, Mirror-world, whatever," she added even more quietly, perhaps speaking to herself. She set down where she was, in the shade, cross-legged, chin rested in palm, her elbow propped on a knee.

Now that she had drawn his attention to it, Adam couldn't ignore the need to move. He knew it would hurt mentally. He hadn't practiced for ages; he must be all rusty.

Still… He fell into a stance, even as he licked his lips nervously, and began warm-ups. The routine felt strange, but still familiar, very much like the feeling one got when a word teetered on one's tongue without being fully recalled.

The sense of completeness he got from the old practice was shocking, to say the least. He hadn't missed martial arts before, or he would have noticed; Adam was certain of that much. Yet it now came back to haunt him.

_Haunt_. Adam chased the word out of his mind. He'd think of it later, he promised himself. Right now, all he wanted was his old familiar form of meditation.

* * *

The color of the sunlight had changed. Jamie was sitting right where she was before, still cross-legged, but with a large notebook open across her knees. She closed

it quickly when she noticed him looking at her carefully.

"I'm sorry," he said. "We were supposed to spend the afternoon together. It's just that…"

"Don't apologize," said Jamie, stuffing the notebook in her bag and getting up. "I told you, I understand." She walked over to him and put a packet of tissues in his hand. "I don't ask questions, so you don't have to answer them."

Only then did Adam realize that he was crying.

"Thanks." he said.

Jamie shook her head vehemently. "Put that in the same category as answers," she said.

"You're a weird one, Jamie." He handed her back the packet. "I feel like I know you, but I don't get you at all."

"I don't ask questions," said Jamie.

Adam was about to ask "What's that the answer to?" but thought better of it.

"So I won't, either," he said.

In reply, he got the first genuine smile he'd seen from her.

* * *

**(2) Cinnamon**

_Never a regular seat_, thought Nancy in amusement as Adam slid into a booth.

"Good morning," she greeted him, moving over with a menu in her hand – though she doubted that it'd be needed.

"Morning," he greeted back.

"Aren't you going to ask about today's special?" she teased.

"No. Whatever it is, I'll have it."

"With orange juice and jasmine tea?"

"Orange juice is fine, but I think I'll go for coffee."

"How do you like your coffee?"

"You know what, let it be just breakfast and juice for now."

"Right away."

As Nancy got back to the counter, she noticed the white Firebird pulling over, and the pretty little blonde coming into the diner. Nancy wasn't surprised even one bit when the blonde joined Adam's table. Nancy walked over to their table.

"Good morning, miss," she said.

"Morning," said Jamie.

"What can I get you?"

"Penny's Pancake Pile, and your largest mug of hot chocolate."

_Birds of a feather_, thought Nancy amusedly. "Sure thing."

"Wait a sec, Nance," said Adam. "Jamie, how do I like my coffee?"

Jamie's expression said _How would I know?_ clear as day. Nancy stifled a chuckle.

"Half espresso, half foamed milk, no sugar and a tinge of cinnamon," Jamie fired away.

"Anything else I can get you guys?"

"No, thanks," answered Adam.

He and Jamie were left to themselves. For a few moments, they said nothing.

Adam's patience ran out first. "Aren't you going to ask me why did I ask you to order my coffee for me?"

"Nah." Jamie shook her head. "I figured that you set me up, and would spill the beans if I just kept my silence long enough."

"You got two things right. I did set you up, and I will 'spill the beans.'"

Jamie raised a single eyebrow, in a gesture that strongly reminded Adam of his own sarcastic moods.

"I get the impression that there is something I didn't get right," she said.

"What do you think I set you up for?" he asked.

"To ask you a question."

"Wrong." Adam leaned back with satisfaction. "Do you know how much you can learn about a person from how they order their coffee?"

Jamie tilted her head left, and then right. "You wanted to know what I think of you?" she asked.

"Wrong again. How do you think I usually drink my coffee, Jamie? Half milk, with cinnamon?"

"You drink it black," she said hesitantly, after a moment. "You never drink instant. One sugar, sometimes one and a half. You put cinnamon only when you feel that you really need it."

"I've never tried cinnamon in my coffee," he said, "But the rest is dead on."

There was silence again.

"What did you set me up for?" she asked finally.

Adam sighed. "You make me feel like such a jerk," he said.

Nancy was back. She put a large jar of orange juice in the middle of the table, put down two steaming mugs, and a large bowl of oatmeal in front of Adam.

"Your pancakes will be ready soon," she promised Jamie.

Jamie nodded, said "Thanks," and Nancy was gone again.

"Surprise breakfast again?" asked Jamie wryly, as Adam tried his oatmeal.

"It's actually good," he answered, "And yes."

"Chili muffins one day, and oatmeal the next. No wonder you like this place."

"Care to share?"

"Didn't we say no questions?"

"You asked me a couple of questions yesterday," he pointed out.

"I did, didn't I."

"Pretty much threw me off my balance, too." He took a careful sip from his coffee. "I like cinnamon in my coffee."

"So this is what, payback?"

"Self defense. Or used to be."

"When did it have the time to become a used-to-be?"

"When I figured I like my coffee the way you ordered it."

Jamie sighed into her mug, and put it down. "I don't get you at all."

"Right back at you," he said.

"What did you mean, when you said I made you feel like a jerk?"

"You sit there and look like a lost little kid, and I feel like the bad guy."

She snorted. "And what d'you reckon _you_ look like?"

Adam laughed. "We evened up again, huh?"

Her lips quirked. "We even act like little kids."

He shook his head. "I behaved like an adult for most of my teen years. I deserve to be a little kid for a while."

"No objections here."

"The hot chocolate and pancakes deal pretty much gives you away."

"Give me away for what?"

"You like to play with images." His spoon was pointed at her. "More specifically, with your image."

"So, what did you learn from the way I ordered your coffee?" she asked. Her voice betrayed nothing more than curiosity.

"I learned that I can trust you."

"Damn it, you're too trusting."

"I can trust you, because you care. That's why you just spoke without thinking."

He didn't expect her to laugh, but she did, shaking her head and nearly dipping her curls in her mug. "You're probably the most interesting thing that's happened to me in years."

Nancy chose that moment to interrupt with Jamie's pancakes.

Jamie dove into her breakfast in a famished manner that was a sharp reminder of Rocky.

_Damn it, I miss him_, thought Adam. _He and Aisha are probably the only ones I miss. And Aisha is in Africa_.

If Jamie noticed his strange expression, she said nothing and showed nothing.

"So," she asked, after devouring half the pancake pile in half the time it would've taken Adam. "Any plans for today?"

"Not really."

"How about a lazy walkabout?"

"Deal."

* * *

The day passed, and so did another one; three lazy, fleeting days. Between the stable routine Adam and Jamie formed themselves, and the sharp turnabouts of their conversation, those were the best days Adam had had in ages.

It was the evening of the third day, and the two were sitting at a small coffee shop they had just spotted, digging into the tricolor cake.

"Adam," said Jamie suddenly, "You do know that I'll be off in a day or two."

Adam's fork froze in mid-air. "You what? Why?"

"I never stay long in one place."

"Oh," said Adam. He put down his fork.

"Actually, I thought you'd be the first to leave," continued Jamie, avoiding his eyes. "As you've been here longer…"

He would've left already, except that Jamie was here.

"I don't really mind how long I stay somewhere," he said, "so long as I know that I can get up and leave."

"Oh. It's different for me; I hardly ever stay more than four days in the same place. I've done more laps across the US than I can count." The tone of her voice clearly implied: _I'm sorry_.

"It's okay," he said, responding to the words she did not say: apologies fell into the same category as thank-you's and personal questions. "I understand."

"Hey, that's my line."

"I didn't know you copyrighted it."

Adam tried to continue the joking line, but he didn't feel like it. When he had left LA two months ago, he knew that loneliness would become an issue. He didn't want Jamie out of his life – at least not just yet.

The coffee-stained teaspoon reflected his face, warping it. Adam tilted it, twisting the reflection the other way around. Then, the answer was there, simple and obvious: if Jamie didn't want him out of her life, too, as her voice implied…

"Do you take hitchhikers?" he asked.

She lifted her eyes and locked them with his. "What?"

"Because if you do, how about I hop on?"

She was still staring at him – he had no way to know if she liked the idea, or not.

"How about we move tomorrow?" she asked. "If you're in, I have no reason to stay here any longer."

Adam laughed. "Come on, let's get packing!"

* * *

Adam popped his head into Jamie's room. "I'm packed. You?"

"Give me a minute."

"I talked to the receptionist. We're clear."

"You lived here longer than I did, and it still took you less time to pack," complained Jamie, stuffing the last of her things into the duffel bag. "Where's the sense in that?"

"They say guys take less time to pack."

A pillow zoomed past where his head had been; he ducked just in time.

"I'll aim better next time," warned Jamie.

In reply, Adam picked up the pillow, and gave it his best shot.

Jamie caught it and sent it back in one swift movement.

"You're good," observed Adam, holding the pillow.

Jamie picked up another one, seeing that he was not about to return her weapon. "So are you." And she charged.

* * *

Half an hour later they sat, panting and grinning broadly, on the carpet.

"That was fun," said Jamie.

"You can say that again. It's been way too long since I last had a pillow fight."

"Can't break my record of – well, not having had one until college."

"You gotta be kidding."

"Am not."

"And I thought I was a grown-up kid."

"Yeah, well," said Jamie matter-of-factly. "Are we still going to leave at sunrise tomorrow?"

"Think so."

She yawned. "Then we'd better go to sleep."

"Where are we going, by the way?"

"Oh, I don't know. Any ideas?"

"I heard that Vermont is beautiful at this time of the year."

"Never been to Vermont?"

"Nope."

"Let's fix that, then. So, Vermont it is. Shouldn't take us more than two days to get there."

Adam yawned, too. "Great."

"Get out, kid." said Jamie affectionately.

"Thanks," said Adam, getting up.

"What for?"

"Calling me a kid."

Jamie shrugged. "If it makes your day."

"Told you I was a grown-up teenager."

"It's too late an hour for this kind of talk," yawned Jamie. "Go sleep. Or at least go and let me sleep."

"I think I'll sleep."

"So sleep well."

"You too."

* * *

Rather than heading for his room, Adam found himself heading for a payphone he had spotted earlier, and sliding some coins into it. He dialed a familiar number, and waited. Just when he was about to give up, the person he called picked up the phone.

"Hello?" he said, somewhat breathlessly.

"Hi, Rocko."

"Adam!" Next followed the sound of heavy stuff falling, and Rocky's mild swearing. "Now look what you've done; I dropped all my shopping bags!"

"And that would be a considerable lot, considering your famous appetite."

"Oh, to hell with the groceries! It's nice of you to finally let me know you're alive!"

"I'd say I'm sorry, but for one thing it won't make anything right, and for another… Oh, never mind."

"You okay, Adam?" asked Rocky, suddenly serious. "You need anything?"

"No, I'm fine. What, you thought I called just because I needed something?"

"No… Adam, I don't know _what_ to think. I've heard nothing from you for months now; not a single word since… Since before Tanya called."

"I know. For what it's worth, Rocky, I didn't want you guys to worry about me."

Rocky snorted. "Stay away from the girls, they'll have your head."

"I can imagine," said Adam wryly. "So, what have you been up to since July?"

"Oh, nothing," said Rocky in a careless tone that was obviously false. "Jason and I took over from Stevens, no biggie."

"No biggie?" Adam almost choked on the words. Jason had learned karate at Stevens' dojo, and was later hired by his old sensei. "Wow, Rocky, that's great!"

"It is," admitted Rocky, but his enthusiasm faded with his next words: "It's not how I wanted it, but it's still great."

"Sorry," said Adam softly, and this time he really meant it. He and Rocky used to talk about running a dojo together.

"It isn't the way Jason wanted it, either," continued Rocky, seemingly ignoring Adam's apology. "He wanted Tommy to be his partner, but Tommy's in college and is into _paleontology,_ of all things. So Jason and I teamed up together. Adam?"

"Yes?"

"Any chance you'll tell me what happened?"

Adam actually thought it over. "Not in the visible future, I don't think so. No."

"Thought so," muttered Rocky. "So at least tell me – where are you now? What are you doing? How're you doing?"

"I'm currently on the way to Vermont, should be there in a couple of days – that's both 'where' and 'what'," Adam ticked the questions on his fingers. "As for 'how' – I'm fine."

"What happened to make you call?"

"I missed you," said Adam simply. "Been so for a couple of days, so I thought I'd give you a call."

"Oh." Rocky seemed lost for words, for there was a noticeable silence before he spoke again. "Don't be sorry, Kermit. It's okay. Just – try to call in more often than once every couple of months, won't you?"

"I will," promised Adam. "Look, I need to get up early tomorrow – I'll call you again, okay?"

"You'd better, I got this call tracked."

"A lot of good it'll do, seeing as I'm on the move," teased Adam back. "It won't be months, I promise."

"Take care," said Rocky gloomily. "Or I'll kick your ass."

"Thanks. And good luck with the dojo."

"Thanks."

There was an awkward silence.

"Bye, Rocko."

"Bye, Adam."

* * *

"Didn't sleep well?" asked Jamie. She and Adam were walking to the car; Adam hadn't stopped yawning.

"Not really," he admitted. "I should be used to it by now."

Jamie nodded. "I can relate. I'm an awfully light sleeper – I have to wear myself out before going to sleep, or else I keep being woken by every car passing under the window and every cat mewing in the neighborhood."

"I sleep soundly enough. It's just that I dream too much."

"There's such a thing as dreaming too much?" asked Jamie, her tone curious. "I barely do."

"Normal dreams are okay, but there's the kind of dreams that leave you feeling as if you didn't sleep at all."

Jamie tilted her head left, and then right. "Sounds nasty," she said finally.

They had reached the car. Jamie opened the trunk.

"It's a good thing you have even less stuff than I do," she said.

"Yeah well," he said. "I kind of didn't want to take the memories along with the stuff."

"Give me a hand here, will you?" asked Jamie. She was fitting the bags so that they wouldn't move during the trip. She never asked.

* * *

**(3) Coffee**

The phone rang. Sleepily, Rocky reached out for it and pressed Talk.

"It's too damn early," he yawned into the receiver.

"Morning to you too," came Adam's voice, happy as a lark. "I've got a feeling I won't see a phone till dusk, so I figured I'd give you a call."

Rocky sat in his bed, and stretched. "How nice and considerate of you," he said.

"I've never seen anything like it."

"Like what?"

"This girl drinks coffee like Tommy downs smoothies after training."

Despite the early Saturday-morning rise, Rocky laughed. "Come on, nobody drinks that much coffee."

"Oh yeah?" came the sarcastic reply. "Well, she was emptying a very large instant when I came in this morning to drag her down to breakfast, had two double-shot espressos with that waffle, and now she stopped for a mug of who-knows-what under the pretense of needing gas."

"Maybe you're out of gas."

The only answer he got was a mighty sneeze.

"Hey! Didn't your momma tell you it's not polite to sneeze on people?"

"For one thing, hay fever's not catching, and for the other, even if it were, there is no germ, virus or bacteria that could reach you through the phone lines."

"Since when do you have hay fever? And I thought hay fever only strikes in the spring."

"It has the symptoms of hay fever and it reacts to hay fever medications, so it's hay fever as far as I'm concerned; apparently I'm allergic to the local flora."

"I thought her name was Jamie?"

"Rockwell DeSantos, you ought to thank god that you're not within my arm's reach right now."

"Why?" asked Rocky innocently.

He got a reaction he did not bargain for: Adam laughed.

Adam was never one to laugh much. He was reserved and serious even as a kid, and the condition only got worse when they became Power Rangers: it was a festive occasion when Adam smiled, and a real laugh was a rare thing indeed. Things seemed to have changed, though. Over the last few months, Rocky had heard Adam laugh almost every other call. Even the sound of it had changed. It was now clear and ringing like a small child's. It practically made Rocky's day to hear it; he laughed too.

* * *

Jamie paid for the gas and the coffees, and headed back to the car with two paper cups. As she left the small shop, though, she noticed that Adam wasn't by the car. She looked around, and there he was by the pay phone.

Jamie remained where she was, hoping against the odds that he wouldn't notice her watching. Adam was always fascinating to her, but she loved most to watch him when he wasn't noticing. He was always so conscious and calculated, that she could almost see the weight being lifted from his shoulders when he thought he wasn't being watched.

He was leaning against the wall with his shoulder blades and left foot. The receiver was stuck between his head and his shoulder, and his hands fidgeted with something he must have picked up earlier. Suddenly, he broke into a laugh. The receiver fell. In one movement, a fraction of a second long, he grabbed the wire with his left, caught the receiver with his right and, placing it on his left shoulder, continued to chitchat.

"Beautiful," whispered Jamie. Standing like that, illuminated by the pale gold of the winter sun, it was the only word that seemed to describe him. "Just beautiful."

He must have really enjoyed the conversation, because it took him a whole minute to spot her. Jamie smiled when he waved in her direction, but stood still. She knew that if she moved in his direction he would end the call in a flash; plus she wanted to enjoy this just a little bit more. After all, the road was always there.

* * *

"So, don't you have to move or anything?" asked Rocky. Many of Adam's calls were made from gas stations, and Rocky got used to their conversations ending as soon as Jamie finished with the gas.

"No, she just got herself a seat. No hurry."

"Adam, your life revolves around that girl."

"Seeing as she's the driver and I'm the hitchhiker it's pretty normal, don't you think?"

Rocky was sorely tempted to remind Adam that most hitchhikers knew where they were heading to, but he hated to bring up this subject when Adam was in such an obviously good mood. Instead, he said: "Well, you always liked strong women."

"Rocky!" Not quite a laugh, but close.

"What?" said Rocky mock-defensively. "As long as you don't bring home a sumo wrestler , it's fine by me. I mean, a sumo fighter would eat more than I do, and that's totally not acceptable."

That got Adam into hysterics.

Rocky grinned triumphantly. _Jackpot!_ he thought.

* * *

Jamie finished the first coffee, and started on the second one. Paper cups weren't much for heat conservation, and there just was no point in cold coffee. She considered a muffin, but they weren't really tempting, and she figured that she could go without it. All the time, she watched.

Rocky was probably being chewed out, as Adam was waving his finger in the air, his arms sort of half-crossed across his chest. It couldn't have been serious though, because he was grinning, too – not his usual lopsided smile, but a full-blown grin. It was quite unusual to see, and almost took getting used to, but it was nice: definitely so.

Jamie was halfway through the second paper cup when Adam finally hung up. Instead of hanging by the car, he walked over to her. Jamie didn't get up.

"Sorry I got us delayed," he said when he came within hearing distance.

"It's not like we're on schedule," she said wryly.

He almost blushed, she could tell. It was so easy to make him blush that it was hard not to do it to him on purpose.

"I had a little coffee break," she added.

"Yeah, I noticed."

She offered him the cup, and he shook his head.

"You shouldn't drink so much coffee," he told her. "It's not good for you."

"You stick with the rabbit food and the herbal water. Me, I'd rather have a bleeding dead animal on my plate and caffeine in my cup. Though hot chocolate's good too. How about some hot chocolate?"

"Sounds nice."

She got up. "I'll get us some."

"No, I'll get it."

"Oh, no you don't." Moving fast, she blocked his entrance to the little shop.

"Why don't you ever let me get us anything?" he complained, with a minimal pout. By now he'd learned that with Jamie, anything more was overkill.

Jamie bit her lip, and said: " 'Cause I'm a multimillionaire, and I'm never going to waste all that money."

"Very funny, Jamie."

"I'm serious."

They moved at the same instant, and though Adam was the martial artist, Jamie beat him to the counter. Smiling triumphantly, she ordered two large mugs of hot chocolate.

* * *

**(4) Angel Grove**

"Heads or tails?" asked Jamie. Late sunset rays reflected from her hair, coloring it with strips of orange.

"Heads," said Adam.

Jamie opened her palm, revealing 'Heads'. "West then," she said, starting the engine. Her eyes alone smiled as she said: "The desert is so beautiful at night."

"Good thing we agree," said Adam, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as the air rushed by his face, bringing the scented aroma of dry earth basked with the sun.

"Well, if we didn't agree we wouldn't travel together, would we?" asked Jamie, practical as always.

"I guess so," said Adam, before he realized what she had actually said: _travel together_. Thinking back to that September afternoon five months ago, when he had suggested to Jamie that he hitchhike with her, he wondered when "hitchhiking" turned to "traveling together."

It took a few moments, but it suddenly hit him that he wasn't even tempted to ask her, and with that realization came another one_. It's people that she doesn't question. No, scratch that; she doesn't question people's motives. _Reaching idly outside the car, he stretched his fingers. The fading sunlight seemed so solid, Adam wouldn't have been surprised to have ladled some in his palm. _So, does that make her trusting or wary?_

It made her neither, he decided; it just gave her enough space to be whatever she wanted to be.

With the softest of hums, the roof of the car began to close.

"The sun isn't completely down," he complained.

"It will be in a second, and then the temperature will drop so fast we won't know what hit us," answered Jamie.

"Jamie?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"First day we met, at sunset. Remember?"

There was a few seconds delay, then she said: "I remember. What about?"

"What if I hadn't promised not to ask questions?"

Adam heard her inhaling deeply, watched anxiously as her chest rose and fell. He was frankly terrified that he'd just crossed one of her red lines, and he wasn't going to be pushing her for an answer: should she answer at all, he knew, she would do it in her own time.

"I don't know," she answered, a good few moments after the sun disappeared from view. She sounded mildly surprised. "It might have turned either way." After a short silence, she added: "You wouldn't have been you if you didn't make that promise, would you? And I liked you already at that point."

Adam took a minute to process the question. "Guess you're right," he said finally. "It's just I finally realized how important this trust policy has become to me."

"You think it's trust?" Her voice seemed to convey nothing but detached curiosity, but Adam knew her better by now; she wouldn't have asked if it wasn't extremely important to her. "Or is it distance?"

Her question echoed his thoughts so much that it was hard not to startle. "Maybe space and respect," he offered. "Just letting the other person be, you know?"

She thought it over. "How come you articulate my thoughts better than I do?" she asked.

That took a lot of time to find a decent answer to. "Maybe because," he offered, "I still question more than you do."

Her face was unreadable in the moonlight. He spent a good few moments watching her, but figuring no answer would be coming, switched to watching the desert roll by.

"I'm glad we met," she said. Adam turned his head, glancing at his watch as he did so; it had been fifteen minutes and Jamie was still not looking at him. "I'm glad you asked to hop on."

"Me too," he said sincerely, "And I'm glad you said yes."

A smile crossed Jamie's lips. Small and fleeting as it was, it was what made Adam finally certain that they truly were friends.

* * *

"Bless you," said Adam.

"Are you sure hay fever's not catching?" complained Jamie. "Because that was like the twentieth time I sneezed in the last hour!"

"Hay fever's an allergic reaction, it can't be catching," Adam assured her. "Maybe it means that someone is thinking of you."

"No, you're confusing sneezing with hiccupping." She paused for a moment. "Well, at least I'm not hiccupping."

It was the crack of dzwn, and they were making as much conversation as possible, trying to keep alert.

"Do you feel like hot chocolate?" asked Jamie as a gas station came within view.

"Sounds nice," he admitted.

She didn't answer, but pulled right in. They sighed in unison as the engine stopped, and the chattering of birds could be heard.

Adam checked the map as Jamie got out of the car. "That's some distance we covered tonight," he said.

"I always noticed I cover more distance in night rides, rather than day rides," agreed Jamie. She inserted the gas nozzle into the tank. "That's why I'm not doing it very often."

"That, and the fact that when the high of the sunrise wears off…" added Adam.

"Kinda."

They waited in silence until the pump clicked, indicating that the tank was full. Jamie left Adam gazing at the sunrise, and disappeared into the shop. She was back after a moment, with two steaming mugs and a paper bag containing two pretzels. Instead of getting in her seat, though, she stood by Adam's.

"Do you feel like switching?" she asked.

"Switching?"

"In driving," she explained. "I had this nasty dizzy spell just as I entered the shop – I must be more tired than I realized."

"Sure," said Adam, getting up. "Let's switch."

_She does look more tired than usual_, admitted Adam to himself as he turned the switch. Her offer to let him drive made him both proud, and anxious. On the one hand, he knew how much Jamie loved her car – he'd heard her talking to it once or twice, when she thought no-one was around; on the other, he was worried about her. She was never this pale after any of the other all-nighters they'd pulled.

_Oh, knock it off_, he told himself as they got back on the road, and he started picking up speed. _She's okay. Only reason I never noticed her so pale before was probably because I was too knocked out myself. All-nighters take getting used to, and she's much more used to it than I am_.

"We should have done this before," said Jamie, several good minutes into the road.

"We're pulling night rides on a steady basis," he pointed out.

"I mean you driving," she said.

He picked an exit, randomly.

"Things take time," he answered after a while. "At least, important things do."

She, too, took her time before answering. "S'ppose so."

Their conversations were usually slow-paced, nowadays, especially when one of them was tired, and between that and driving for the first time in months he didn't really notice thatalmost an hour had passed.

"It's almost time to pick a town," he said.

She didn't answer.

He dared a look in her direction – good thing they weren't on a highway anymore.

She was asleep; she was too pale.

He pulled over and, very tenderly, put a hand against her forehead.

She was burning.

Her eyes fluttered open. "I'm dizzy," she said.

"You've got a high temperature."

"Probably a bad cold," she said. "I've been feeling off for a few days now. I just need to sleep it off."

And she fell asleep again.

_Damn_, thought Adam. _No way I'm just checking us into a motel with her sick_.

That's when it hit him; all the while he was driving, he'd had a strange sense of familiarity. Now, all his senses on high alert, the feeling of deja-vu struck home: he was maybe two hours' drive from Angel Grove.

Having made up his mind, he kicked the engine alive and got on the road again, praying to dear god that everything would work out, and that neither of his friends would fry him alive before it was over.

* * *

"Thanks, bro."

"Anytime."

"May I have my ribs back?"

"When I'm through with them." But Rocky released Adam from the bone-crushing hug he had wrapped him with a short moment ago, when Adam stepped out the car. "Let's get her upstairs," he said practically, looking at the pale woman asleep in the passenger seat. "You get her, I'll get the bags."

* * *

"You're lucky we close early on Fridays," Rocky told him as he kicked the door open. "Especially with the extra hours I'm pulling while Jason's over in Florida."

"Florida?"

"Visiting Kim."

"She's still down there?"

"And still a gymnast. Guest room on your left. She's got her eyes on the Sydney Olympic team, now."

"Really." Rocky's apartment was small, but it actually did have a guest room. Carefully, Adam laid Jamie on the bed. "I'm really worried about her. It just came out of nowhere…"

"If it came out of nowhere it's probably the flu or some 24-hour bug," said Rocky, dropping down the bags. "Was she coughing?"

"No."

"So it's not pneumonia. Wait a sec, I'll get a thermometer."

They waited in silence until the thermometer beeped.

"100 degrees," said Rocky, checking it. "High, but not dangerous. You guys stayed up all night, right?"

"Yeah."

"So she's probably sleeping more out of tiredness than sickness. How long does she usually sleep after all-nighters?"

"Anything between four and seven hours."

"So let her sleep. You'd better catch a few Z's, too."

"There's no way I…"

"Go sleep, Adam," said Rocky sternly. "I know you well enough to tell that you're tired. I don't have classes before afternoon, so I'll watch over you – both of you – until then, and wake you before I go."

"Thanks," said Adam reluctantly.

"Oh, no you don't," said Rocky, grabbing Adam's arm, as Adam headed for the couch. "My room. It's a mess, but it's still better than the couch. And you can use the bathroom if you want to shower first."

It was a testimony to Adam's fatigue that he hardly argued at all. "Thanks," he said. "And sorry, for busting in like that…"

"Don't mention it," said Rocky firmly. "That's what friends are for."

"I haven't exactly been the best of friends," said Adam quietly.

Somewhat to his surprise, Rocky didn't have to think of an answer: the one he'd given Jason on the many times they argued over the subject was still valid. "I can understand why you had to run off, Adam, and I'm not going to blame you for it. I wouldn't be your friend if I did."

Adam didn't answer; at least, verbally. But he crushed the air out of Rocky in another hug.

* * *

Adam sat on the couch, aimlessly changing stations on the television. Rocky had left a couple of hours ago. After he left, Adam sat for a while in the guest room, watching Jamie, until he started worrying that he might disturb her – and feeling a little silly, too. He thought of reading a book, but the only books he could find were cooking books, so he gave up and turned on the television, hoping there was something good on; there wasn't.

At first he wasn't sure if he'd heard right, but there it was again. Good thing he'd turned the volume down, or he wouldn't have even heard the soft rustle of the covers. He got up and entered the room.

"Hi," he said from the doorway, very softly – just in case he'd heard wrong.

"Hi," she answered.

"We're at Rocky's place," he answered before she could ask, moving closer to the bed and sitting on the carpet. "I didn't feel like just checking in at some place…"

She blinked slowly. "I'm not that sick."

"I know. You had 100 degrees earlier. It's not _too_ high, but it's high."

"I'm still not feeling well," she admitted reluctantly, "But I'm starved."

"There's some chicken soup, if you want. Homemade."

"You cook?"

"No, Rocky. He cooked quite a bit during the morning."

She frowned. "What time is it?"

"3 p.m."

"I hate sleeping all day."

"I know. Soup?"

"Only if you're eating, too."

"Sure." He got up and turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway and turned his head. "You are not getting up," he told her.

"Mother hen."

* * *

He woke her again in the evening, and again she had some soup and fell asleep. Next time she woke up, though, sunlight was sneaking in through the closed curtains. She couldn't hear anyone moving about, but she felt pretty sure Adam wouldn't have left her there alone. Carefully, she pulled herself up into a sitting position. She stabilized herself for a second, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass – she was feeling better, but not quite herself – and gingerly got to her feet.

_It's better to be sick when there's someone to take care of you_, she admitted to herself. She wasn't sick much, but she caught bad colds once or twice a year; she usually slept it off for twenty-four hours and woke up with a nasty headache and a growling stomach. Her stomach was still growling, but there was hardly any headache as she wasn't dehydrated and had actually had something to eat in the last twenty-four hours. Maybe Adam had the right idea after all.

She got out of the bedroom, and stopped in her tracks. There was a guy sitting at the kitchen table and reading a newspaper, and it wasn't Adam.

* * *

"Hi," said Rocky cheerfully.

"Hi," she answered uncertainly, but still looked as terrified as a lost little girl staring down the snout of a hungry wolf.

_I'm not __**that**__ scary!_ thought Rocky indignantly, and said, in his friendliest voice: "I'm Rocky."

"Figures. I'm Jamie. Where's Adam?"

"I kicked him out," said Rocky frankly. "I didn't think it was good for him to sit all day, watch you sleep, and fret like a hen."

She was beginning to look less scared, now. "Probably," she admitted. "What time is it?"

"Nine o'clock."

Hearing that it wasn't late in the morning seemed to make her a little less grumpy.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah," she admitted after a moment. "The fever's over, anyway."

"You probably want to shower and change," said Rocky, catching how she looked down at her rumpled clothes. He got up. "I'll show you the bathroom and where Adam put all your stuff."

"Thanks."

* * *

He still had one in the frying pan when she got out of the shower. Her wet hair fell well below her shoulders, and she was looking calmer than before.

She sniffed. "Pancakes?" she asked.

"Adam said you like them. And there's hot chocolate in the pot. No coffee, though."

"How can anyone live without coffee?"

"So I thought, but then I got into business with a partner that won't let me keep coffee in the office. Says it sets a bad example for the kids. We run a dojo," he explained.

"Oh."

He flipped the last of the pancakes onto the pile, and graciously put it on the small table. "Ta-da," he announced proudly, and pulled a chair for her. The courtly gesture only served to make her nervous again, but she sat. He sat across from her.

"Maple, right?" he asked.

"Actually, I feel like chocolate sauce today," she said, shaking her head. "What did Adam _not_ tell you?"

"Mainly he told me what you like to eat and that you don't like to be bugged with questions. I also know that you own a white Firebird that you're quite fond of. That's about it." He put a couple of pancakes on his plate – second breakfast never hurt anyone. "He's not exactly the talkative type."

"I noticed," she said a couple of minutes later; it took Rocky a moment to connect her answer with his earlier comment.

"So, what d'you know about me?"

"That your name is Rocky, you're an old friend of Adam's, you're running a dojo and you have a roommate called Jason."

"Jason and I are running the dojo together, actually."

"Oh."

That concluded their breakfast conversation. Rocky was discovering that Jamie wasn't the talkative type either, especially when feeling uncomfortable; and, while she wasn't as terrified as she had looked when she'd just got up, he felt pretty certain that she was still suspicious of him and had no idea what do to. It didn't help matters that he didn't know what to do either: how do you keep company with someone who doesn't want you to keep her company and is staying at your place?

"You like cartoons?" he asked.

"Not right now."

He bit his lip, thinking. "Got it. Be back in a sec." He fetched something from his room and came back to the living room, smiling triumphantly. "These should entertain you." He dropped the albums next to her on the couch, and waited for her response.

"Photo albums?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah." His smile was wide and genuine. "I've got loads of them, and they should give you a couple of good laughs."

She didn't even touch the albums. "I don't think I should."

"Yeah, I heard about the 'no pasts' policy you and Adam've been keeping." He looked at her seriously. "And looks like it did you good – it was good for Adam, at any rate. But Jamie, the two of you are practically living together. How long do you think you can keep it up? The old policy is broken already – it broke yesterday morning. Now what?" He tried hard not to wince, not to think – _Adam will have my head for this, that's for sure. If she doesn't bite it off first_.

Strangely, though, Jamie didn't seem prone to biting his head off. Instead, she frowned.

"You know him better than I do," she said after a while, so quietly he had to strain to hear her. Her hand reached out for the albums, but still didn't touch them. "Do you think he would mind?"

Throwing caution to the wind, he said: "What do you think?"

Her head snapped up. He had no idea what had just happened, but obviously what he said struck a cord in her. The seconds stretched on forever –

Jamie smiled; it was very small, very tired and not very happy, but it was a smile.

"I think I know why he likes you," she said simply. She picked an album and curled on the couch, laying the thick volume on her knees.

Rocky breathed again.

* * *

Adam frowned when he came in, in the afternoon. "Hi, Rocko," he said absentmindedly. "She's still asleep?"

"Asleep, but not still. She's been awake most of the day."

"Really? Good."

"We watched cartoons and I browsed through photos."

"Really." Adam's eyebrows shot up.

Rocky recalled Jamie's question. "I'm not sure which of you is more afraid." He relayed to Adam the conversation.

Adam looked skeptical.

"Look, I don't know her half as well as you do, but she's curious. I don't think she'd mind staying in Angel Grove for a couple of days."

"I'm not going to tell her about…"

"Of course not," agreed Rocky.

Adam sighed. "I don't want to lose her," he admitted. "I'm not ready to sit down at a single place yet, but I don't want to travel around alone."

"You're friends, Adam," said Rocky. "Of course you don't want to lose her."

Adam smiled a tiny, lopsided smile. "I was afraid you wouldn't like her, you know?"

Rocky snorted. "Figures," he said. "She's sweet, in a scared kitten sort of a way." Catching Adam's expression, he added, "I mean…"

"That's not what I was going to ask," said Adam quietly, and there was something in his voice that put Rocky on high alert. "I was going to ask how you're so okay with everything."

"Because we're friends," said Rocky matter-of-factly, "And no matter what, I know you."

* * *

**(5) The Sketchbook**

Jamie's temperature went up again that night. Rocky, who slept on the couch, woke when she got up to fetch herself a glass of water. Neither he nor Jamie thought her temperature was high enough to worry about. Adam, woken by the sound of their voices, thought otherwise, and was sent, much to his chagrin, straight back to bed.

The day passed quietly, with Jamie still mostly asleep. When she woke up in the evening, though, she seemed quite all right. Rocky suggested they go out for dinner and both Adam and Jamie agreed; it seemed that they surprised themselves, as well as each other.

The second night passed smoothly. The next morning, as the three sat down for breakfast over bacon and muffins, Rocky noticed, not without a hint of regret, that both his guests were showing signs of restlessness.

"So, what do you guys want to do today?" he asked, though already knowing the answer.

Jamie and Adam exchanged glances.

"I think we'll be heading out again," said Adam. He did not make eye contact with Rocky. "Thanks for everything."

"You're welcome," said Rocky earnestly. "Both of you. Feel free to drop by any time."

"Thanks," said Adam.

"Adam?" asked Jamie suddenly, putting down her buttered muffin. "First day we met, at sunset. Remember?"

"I remember. What about?" answered Adam, not noticing how they echoed their conversation from two and a half days before.

"Could we possibly go visit the Chinese garden?"

Rocky looked between the two – it was hard to tell which was more interesting, the careful neutrality of Jamie's expression – foiled by the anxiety in her widened eyes – or the mild surprise and guarded hope on Adam's face.

"Sure," said Adam.

Jamie smiled.

* * *

It was strange watching Jamie in the garden. Or, more accurately, it was strange how Jamie looked and walked about, as if she was trying to commit the place to memory. Two days ago, he would've thought it unnerving. Now, though, he just stood at a distance as she carefully touched this petal and that one.

_Scared_, Rocky had called them. _Desperate_, Jamie called it once. Both were true, to an extent, but Adam was still looking for a better word. The need to understand was back, lately. Adam thought he'd put it to rest when he agreed not to ask, on a different day in a different garden, but apparently that was only a reprieve. Adam wasn't particularly happy about it, but the need to dissect any given situation was just that - a need, not something he wanted to do; at least, not anymore. Five months of Jamie had taught him the merit of letting the view roll by.

Jamie was walking towards him now. She halted at a two-foot distance, and nodded. He nodded back, and without a word they started in the direction of the car.

"Rocky said you only moved here halfway through high school," she said.

"Yeah."

Those were the only words they said until noon, when they pulled over for lunch, and even then – they said only what was necessary, and not more. There was only so much space available in the car, and the silence was their way to make up for it: it wasn't entirely comfortable, but it wasn't uncomfortable, either. For a moment Adam was tempted to think that this was just the way things were, but it wasn't, really. It was the way they made it.

They stopped for the night at one random town or the other, and the next day was just another day. It wasn't that Angel Grove was forgotten; rather, it was folded into the fabric of their life as if it had always been a part. Adam found himself mentioning people and anecdotes from his high school days every once in a while; Jamie shared a little of hers, from which he learned that she had gone to a private school; and she and Rocky kept sending each other regards whenever he and Adam were on the phone. Things settled, all in all.

* * *

Midnight rolled by and past, and they hadn't yet found a place to stop for the night. They had already resigned themselves to an unplanned all-nighter, but a motel appeared down the road sometime around one in the morning. It was middle-of-nowhere, even by Jamie's standards, but it didn't seem too flea-infested and it charged by the day and not by the hour. It even had two adjacent rooms for them.

He was ten minutes out of the shower when he heard Jamie's door open and then being locked, and the next second there was a knock on his door. He opened the door without asking who it was, certain that it would be Jamie. It was her, all right, in a long loose T-shirt and pants, wet, loose hair falling halfway down her back.

"Were you going to sleep?"

"Not really," he lied. "I was going to watch some TV first."

"Mind if we watch together?"

"Sure." He stepped aside and let her in.

They settled on the carpet, leaning against the bed, and Adam picked a random movie channel. They watched TV together before going to sleep quite often; the only thing unusual about the situation was the hour – and a faint, indefinable air of tension about Jamie. Adam kept watching her out of the corner of his eye. When she pulled her knees against her chest and hugged them he reached out and pulled her close. She leaned against him, but didn't relax or say anything. When Adam next looked at her, though, she was asleep.

He swallowed.

He'd never seen her asleep before, except for when she was sick. Back then he thought that the tired expression was the product of the flu. Now, though, he saw exactly the same expression again: tired, worn-out and lonely. Awake, she seemed his age or younger; asleep, she seemed five years older. His thumb caressed the skin under her eyes, gently, feeling the faint crow's feet hidden by the light tan. Neon was an odd look on her, making her face seem thinner than it actually was. His hand now left her face and moved through her hair, which was still heavy with water.

He'd thought her pretty when she walked into that diner, half a year ago, but stopped noticing as they became friends. Now he saw her as if for the first time again, and thought her beautiful; tired and beautiful. She showed no signs of waking or of stirring, and he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Her soap was honey-scented.

The door to her room was locked – he heard her locking it before – and he was loath to wake her. He looked behind his shoulder, at the bed. It was large enough, and Jamie's clothes were obviously meant to be slept in. Carefully he picked her up and placed her on the bed, straightening her limbs and covering her. She didn't even stir. He found himself sitting on the bed, watching her, instead of lying down to sleep himself. Again his hand was in her hair, and he kissed her temple and tasted her soap again. Soaps didn't usually taste like their scent, did they?

She was still sound asleep. His kisses slid from her temple down her cheekbone, and on a whim he whispered a soft kiss against her lips. He withdrew, his face millimeters away from hers, his heart racing. He should stop now. He had to stop now. He would ruin everything if he didn't stop, because at some point Jamie would wake, and what would she do? But Jamie hadn't woken so far, and by now Adam's blood was roaring in his ears.

Her eyes opened. His lips were still only a breath away from hers. He made to pull back, but Jamie's hand landed softly on his shoulder, barely touching, and he froze in place as she studied his face. What his expression showed – what she saw there – he had no idea, but she neither pulled back nor pushed him away. He counted six full seconds before her touch on his shoulder became heavier and she pulled him down to the bed, to her.

* * *

Morning was strange. He woke up feeling satisfied and terrified at the same time, and it took a few moments before he remembered why.

_Jamie._

His eyes flew open. She was not in bed. He sat up, halfway to panic, when he noticed the sketchbook on her pillow and the sound of water from the shower – the shower in this room. His shoulders sagged as the panic vanished. He looked again at the sketchbook, then reached out, placed it against his knees and opened it.

Some of the sketches were abstract; others were surprisingly detailed, or detailed in part and sketchy in others. All of them, though, were charcoal, and all of them were devoid of people. There was the rare squirrel or dove, but that was it. He flipped through the pages, curious: what was so important that Jamie would leave it there for him to find first thing in the morning?

He found it almost halfway through the pages: an abstract drawing, nothing too unusual about it – except for the green swirl in the middle of the page. He looked at the bottom of the page – some drawings were dated – and inhaled sharply. It was dated the afternoon of the day he and Jamie had met.

He'd lost himself in the kata… and Jamie had hidden the sketchbook when she saw him look. He'd never seen the sketchbook since, even forgot it existed. Now she had left it for him to find.

He continued to flip through the pages, increasingly curious. The sketches were still charcoal, save for the occasional green; and the ones with green were always abstract. Then he reached the last page, and if the book hadn't been resting against his knees he would've dropped it.

His face looked at him from the page, asleep and angelic. His hand hovered over the page: how long had Jamie been awake to draw this? He didn't dare touch the drawing – there was only one name to the emotion shining through it, and he was scared, because Jamie had to have been feeling like that for a while and he'd never noticed.

Belatedly he realized that the water had stopped running. He raised his eyes and there she was, standing at the door to the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, looking at him. He didn't have to say it out loud – he could read it in the softening of her expression that she had seen it in his. Still, he said it out loud: "I love you, too."

* * *

**(6) New York**

They always made sure to hang out on their own, wherever they happened to be: there was only so much time two people could constantly spend together. Still, as they tended to stop at small towns more often than at cities, they sometimes ran into each other even when not intending to. Usually they smiled, waved and continued on their own. That was why, when Jamie waved him into the internet café, Adam was surprised. Still, he came in.

"Hi," he said, sitting down next to her. "What's up?"

"Talking to Andy." There was an email form on her screen. "She's still bugging me about you."

Andy was Jamie's friend from college. They kept in touch mostly through email, and sometimes through IM if they happened to be online simultaneously – which didn't happen very often.

"We can take a picture on one of the webcams they have here and mail it to her," he suggested.

"Nah." Jamie shook her head. "Crap quality. Besides, it's her birthday in two weeks."

"Really?" She's told him once that she always made sure to visit Andy on her birthday. "Well, at least we're not far from the right coast." He'd figured her to be originally from somewhere in the East Coast sometime along the way.

Her eyebrows went up. "Do you want to know how many coast-to-coast laps we can do in two weeks?"

"Show me next month."

She laughed. They joked about it from time to time but they weren't going to do it – there was no real point in it. "Better enjoy the peace and quiet while we can," she said. "I hate cities."

* * *

He couldn't remember when was the last time he was so tempted to ask, but Jamie's nervousness was so painfully obvious that he didn't dare say anything that might sound like a question; and oh, he wanted to. Things had been getting curiouser and curiouser from the moment they'd entered New York City – and even more so from the moment he'd realized that they weren't passing by Central Park as part of a sight-seeing treat but because it was on the way.

The apartment house on Seventh Avenue; Jamie's ID card, which got them into the resident's parking lot and past the doorman in the lobby; the feel of the place, complete with a uniformed elevator operator, the thick blue carpets in the hallways and the plants as tall as he was. By the time they reached the right floor, Adam was thoroughly creeped out.

Then the door at the end of the hallway was thrown open, and a latté-skinned woman who seemed to be all limbs ran towards them, long curls flying everywhere despite of her hair band.

"Oh my god, you're here! You're three days early, I'm so happy!"

She laughed as she all but pounced on Jamie, nearly sending both of them to the carpeted floor, and Adam's uneasiness dissipated. When Andy finally let go of Jamie and turned to him, he knew to expect the hug and he returned it without hesitation.

"You must be Adam." She pulled back for a moment, surveying him with pursed lips. The amusement in her eyes was obvious as she remarked: "Good taste, Jamie."

"Embarrass both my boyfriend and me in public, why don't you."

"But this isn't 'in public', Jamie. This is home."

"This is not 'home'." Jamie gave their surrounding a clear look of dislike. "Home is where the heart is, isn't that how it goes?"

"Well then, in that case," Andy picked up Jamie's bag and swatted away her friend's hand, "You're most definitely home. Come on in, you two, and I'll see what I can whip up from the kitchen. And don't you _dare_ say anything about pizza."

* * *

They arrived on Tuesday night, and between Andy's strange work hours and Jamie dragging him around doing what she called "Ridiculous tourist stuff" – which was not at all ridiculous and which he thoroughly enjoyed – he barely saw Andy at all.

He woke up quite early on Saturday morning: the light sifting in through the windows faint and grey. He stayed in bed, dozing on and off and watching Jamie sleep, until the light turned golden and the distinct smell of frying bacon wafted in through the closed door. He got up carefully – Jamie was a light sleeper – and went over to the kitchen.

After three days, Adam's reaction to the spacious apartment mellowed from near-panic to heavy discomfort. Black leather and glass, whoever had furnished the place was into early twentieth century Modern design and had had too much money on their hands. Adam was pretty sure that Andy wasn't that person. Notes taped to every possible surface, colourful stress balls under every foot, five wicker baskets overflowing with newspapers and a ludicrous orange-and-red scarf tossed over one of the Barcelona chairs – those were Andy's footprint.

She was standing in the eerily streamlined marble kitchen, staring at the frying pan with absolute concentration.

"Morning," he said, shuffling in.

"Morning," she said, not raising her eyes from the bacon and eggs. "Coffee should be ready."

"Thanks." There was a percolator standing next to the futuristic espresso machine. He poured himself a cup, fetched the milk from the fridge and added a sprinkle of cinnamon from the shaker.

"It's not too late to say you want bacon for breakfast."

"Hm." Usually he wasn't in favour of greasy stuff, but that day he had waked up hungry. "Why not."

"Good. Feel free to set the table, food'll be ready in a minute."

"You know," he said as he set plates on the table and figured out where the pitchers were hiding, "this is so surreal."

"What is?"

He shrugged. "This place. Being in this place. You and this place. I mean, no offence, but…"

He expected all sorts of reactions, but laughter wasn't one of them. Andy laid down the spatula and considered him with that amused, speculative glance he was already familiar with. "None taken. Jamie hadn't changed a bit, huh?" She picked up the spatula and returned her attention to the frying pan, shaking her head. "Girl never was the talkative sort." She gave him a sidelong glance. "And either you're of the same sort or she has you trained well."

"Same sort, thanks," he said dryly.

A long moment passed in silence.

"We were roommates in college," said Andy. "Freshman year, Columbia U. I hated her at first. Snotty wasp too good for the Plainfields girl, huh?" Andy shook her head. "Until I came in and found her crying over having to go home for Christmas break, and she thought I'd hate her more for having seen her cry. So I sat her down and gave her a piece of my mind, and we were friends ever since." She turned off the halogen stove and poured their breakfast onto a serving plate. "You set that table? Good." She carried the food over and they both sat down. "Dig in."

A couple of minutes later, he asked. "Why didn't she…?"

"Guess she doesn't like this place either."

Adam choked but managed to put the glass down without spattering juice all over. He looked around at the expanse of glass, metal and leather. "What – her family lived here? But what – "

"Yeah," said Andy. She bit viciously into her bacon. "Mom was a partner at a big litigation firm, dad had real estate all over the city and little Jennifer Amelia Morgen was raised by a series of nannies who kept changing every two months so that she won't get more attached to them then to her parents." She swallowed and put down her fork. "Six years and I still get pissed off thinking about those rich bastards."

Adam raised his eyebrows, but all he asked was: "Jennifer Amelia?"

"Well, I wasn't going to say Jennifer Amelia all the time! Would you believe nobody ever bothered to give that girl a nickname? So she was Jen Amy to me right from the start. She shortened it to Jamie that summer. Still Before."

She expected him to ask, so he did. The answer, though, came from the corridor leading to the rooms.

"Before the car accident." Jamie padded over, looking younger and as tired as ever in her kitten-patterned pajamas. She sat down next to Adam, stole his fork and proceeded to steal his breakfast. "February, New York, blink and you missed it. He died on the spot, she died five days later in the hospital. It got me out."

"Dropped out of school," Andy elaborated. "Took care of all the money stuff, and – "

"Ugh, that was the worst part of it."

"Yeah, that was when I moved in. This crazy girl, she wanted to sell this place."

"Like I'd ever want to live here."

"You could always rent it out like the other dozen places."

"Or if you like this place so much, you can live here."

"We have this argument every year," Andy informed him. "Tradition." She pushed herself up. "And I'll get you another fork. She'll eat off of your plate anyway."

Jamie made a face at her. "Where are we having your birthday lunch? Please don't say Balthazar."

"What's Balthazar?"

"It's a bistro," Jamie told him. "An annoyingly over-hyped one, and I don't care how good the food is."

"Les Halles," said Andy, back with another fork which she handed to Adam.

"What?" asked Jamie.

"New place at Park Avenue. Bistro also. It's not Balthazar but it's good enough, and you'll love their attitude – they do the French thing all wrong."

"Hmpf."

* * *

Andy headed out again in the afternoon, loudly complaining about having to work weekends. Considering that her assignment was a gallery opening, Adam informed her that he still thought the Features department to be a cool job. She blew a raspberry at him and sauntered out.

The apartment was quiet. Jamie had curled up with a book and Adam didn't want to disturb her. Nothing in the bookcase or the movie collection caught his eye, and Andy's magazines amused him only for so long. After half an hour he got up and gave himself the dime tour.

Andy had shown him around the night they arrived, while Jamie worked the espresso machine and loudly complained about hating the place. That scene had a different spin, now that he knew that this was where Jamie had grown up. Left to himself he prowled the place, looking for the hints of what had been removed or altered rather than added, imagining what this place had been like when a couple and a girl had lived here.

There were small marks on the wall where artwork used to hang. There was artwork now also, but that was Andy's choice. The Delft vases and plates, though, were probably a leftover from Jamie's parents that Andy liked enough to keep. The silk tree-of-life rug on the wall that Adam admired for fifteen minutes was another heirloom, but the rugs on the floor were Andy's taste.

He couldn't make up his mind about the menagerie. It occupied three shelves in a glass cabinet that was definitely from Jamie's parents' time. Adam knew enough to appreciate the smooth round lines and the details on the ivory and gem figures, but the collection didn't quite gel with the feel of the place. If he tried to imagine the collection in its glass case, the other shelves occupied by fancy porcelain or silver, different art on the walls and the room meticulously clean like it must have been, then the animals carefully arranged on their shelves seemed as lonely and out of place as young Jennifer Amelia must have been.

"These were mine."

He was so absorbed that he hadn't noticed her coming up behind him. She was slightly hunched, hugging her own shoulders, and he pulled her to him instinctively. She relaxed against him.

"These are mine," she repeated. "My mom had these two elephants – " The two gem-embedded figurines were indeed different from the rest " – and I had always adored them. The rest were always my choice, and I'd get my parents to get them for me whenever I could."

"They're beautiful," he said sincerely.

She leaned against him a little more. "I kind of banked on her to tell you. I didn't know where to start. I figured – kind of the same way, except without the flu."

That had taken a bit of deciphering but he was already used to her. "Kind of. Enough that I don't ever want to see those two in the same room."

"God forbid. Only if you and I are on the other side of the pond."

"I'm not tired of this side yet."

"Maybe one day."

He had no idea what to say to that, so he said nothing.

* * *

**(7) Everybody Runs**

"There's a date for the get-together."

"Huh?"

"The get-together. You missed it last year. It was two weeks after…" Rocky's voice faltered.

The get-together. Suddenly, Adam remembered. He leaned against the wall, breath shaky. That's how it started. He had almost forgotten – all that excitement, the planning that started months in advance… He had enjoyed it too, at first, until one day it felt as if the walls were closing in on him. It came and went, that feeling, until it wouldn't go away anymore. That was when Adam himself up and went.

"Adam? You still with me?"

"What? Yes, I – you were saying?"

"O-kay." Rocky's voice was cautious. "I just said, Kat's parents are on a family visit Down Under so we get to use the house, which totally rocks. Dining room big enough for everyone and spare rooms if needed."

"Jamie may want a motel anyway."

"Yeah, I thought you might say that."

Only then did Adam's own words register with him. He'd said that automatically, because he knew Jamie would not want to stay for a few days at somebody's house if she had an alternative, and only when Rocky accepted that did Adam realize what it could mean. It wouldn't be drowning if he was with Jamie, who wasn't part of that mythology.

"You're coming, then?" Rocky sounded relieved. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to come. You've only been here once this past year and you hadn't spoken to anyone else at all."

Did he want to come? Yes, he did – he had never wanted to burn bridges, as much as he needed Out. "Yes, we're coming," he told Rocky.

Pause.

"I just hope nobody will say anything they're not supposed to, y'know? But somebody was bound to bring home an outsider at some point. You're just the first, that's all."

Adam could see that – Jamie, with her overdeveloped social sensitivity, the only civilian in a room full of Rangers. "Yeah, it should be interesting," he agreed. "But I can't leave her behind and I won't stay away, so we'll just have to handle it. What did you say the date was, again?"

Rocky told him, and Adam committed it to memory. "I'll see you then, I guess."

"See you then."

* * *

They had come down from the mountains a few hours ago. The plains stretched in every direction, wide and open. Adam fiddled with the radio dial, trying to find something decent. Tapes were nice, but he could use something new every once in a while. He was almost about to skip to the next channel – this one had some kind of power ballad, and okay, the singer had a good alto but – the voice registered and Adam's hand dropped from the dial. He knew that voice. He'd know that voice everywhere, like he knew his own.

Jamie gave him a cursory look – _didn't think it was your style_ – but said nothing.

Tanya's voice cried out through the speakers.

_"It doesn't end, baby, you know it doesn't  
I still look out for you in the dark  
It doesn't end, you know it baby,  
This night has not ended since you're gone."_

The song lapsed into coda and still Adam did not change the station.

"Aaaand you are all probably wondering who does this awesome voice belong to?" said the radio host. "Well, this song was The Long Night, and the singer was Tanya Sloan. You heard her here first. And, we have Tanya here in the studio with us. Hi, Tanya!"

Adam's fingers dug into the upholstery.

"Adam?" asked Jamie. Just the one word – it had been so long since they needed more.

"I know her," he said, and it was as if his voice came from somewhere more distant than the radio studio Tanya was sitting in. He was hearing Tanya, and this was happening now.

The radio interview went on.

"Yes, this song is about a real person. About one year ago, my boyfriend left me. We had been together for about two years, then, and there was no warning. I didn't know anything was wrong. He just left, and for a long time that was all I knew."

Jamie reached sharply and turned off the radio. Adam said nothing.

Things froze, with nothing said and no distractions. He dared look at her once or twice but she was looking at the road. If she looked sideways to him, he missed it.

Fifty miles later, she spoke.

"Was that you?"

He dragged the word up from the pit his heart had fallen into. "Yes."

"In the song. The one she wrote about."

_The one who'd left with no warning or explanation._ "Yes." The photo albums Rocky had shown her, all those months ago – how much had he said? How much did Jamie know? Could she match a face to the name and the story from the radio? Did she remember Adam and Tanya together in every photo, always leaning against each other or touching? How had Rocky explained that? Adam hadn't thought to ask, before.

Twenty more miles, and then: "What happened?"

He had no words. How could he explain it? She'd been a Ranger, too. That was all there was to it – that was what had driven him out and away from anything he had known before. Rocky understood that. Perhaps even Tanya did, to judge by the lyrics. Only a Ranger would understand the message she'd sent out. His insides twisted and knotted at the thought of what he'd put Tanya through – the way he just left, having had to cut and run or else the walls would come down on him, to never once look back and even with Jamie by his side he only barely dared touch ground again.

It was another twenty miles before he said: "If it was only my secret to keep I'd tell you."

* * *

He went for a pay phone the first chance he got. The voice that answered him at the dojo wasn't Rocky's.

"Hello?" asked again the person on the other side. "Anybody there?"

Adam swallowed. "Hi, Jason."

"Adam!" It was almost possible to hear Jason straightening. "How are you? Everything all right?"

"Yes. Sort of."

"What's the matter? You will be here in two day's time, right?"

"Yeah, yes. It should be fine."

"Rocky's with a class right now. I could get him for you if it's urgent." Jason knew that Adam wasn't usually next to a phone.

But he'd need Jason's cooperation, anyway. He'd need them all.

"We were listening to the radio a couple of hours ago," Adam said. "We caught an interview Tanya had, and the song that opened it."

There was a pause, and then Jason said: "I listened to the same program. I know that song. Damn, man. I'm sorry."

"So am I," said Adam, very quietly. He didn't even know if Jason heard him.

"We had a rough couple of months there with her, I won't tell you we didn't. But she came out all right. She gets it, man, we all do. Rocky had to kick some of us in the head, but – there won't be any trouble on Friday night, if that's what you're worried about."

"It isn't," said Adam. He hesitated. "It's Jamie," he said finally.

Jason waited. Rocky wouldn't have had the patience until Adam found the words, but maybe Rocky wouldn't have needed him to.

"She wants to know what happened," said Adam slowly. "It scared her. That I just… walked away. I don't know how to explain – "

"Yeah," said Jason quietly.

"I have to tell her, Jase." Adam swallowed again. "I can't explain it to her otherwise and – god, Jase, I don't want to lose her. I can't."

There was a very long pause. Adam gave Jason his time.

"Everyone will have to agree," said Jason finally, speaking very slowly. "It has to be unanimous, Adam; and you have to be sure. You have to be sure it's her. I'd rather we don't go through this more times than is absolutely necessary."

"Yes."

"We talked about it, you know. After you. Kind of realized most of us would end up with Others. Nobody wants to live with a secret like that between them and the person they'll spend their lives with. But it has to be unanimous, and no one will make up their mind before meeting her."

"I understand that."

"Friday night, Adam. I'll talk to the guys."

"Thanks, Jason. Really. Thank you."

"No problem, Adam." It even seemed that Jason had meant it. But Jason had always been First among them, and apparently this, too, was included by his sense of duty.

"Jason? I'm sorry. I really am."

There was a pause, and then Jason sighed. "I know, man. It's going to be all right, really."

Adam looked over at where Jamie was sitting in the car, not looking at him. "I hope so."

* * *

The jade frog looked at him from the bedside drawers. He'd found it in his bag after they left New York, wrapped up in paper and a large cotton scarf. Jamie had hidden it there, not wanting to hear an argument. He'd liked it, she said, and it wasn't glass; it could travel, if they'd be careful; and it would be nice to have it with them.

He caved.

The bathroom door opened and Jamie came into the room. He hadn't noticed how much green and grey she wore nowadays. She hadn't worn those colours much when he'd met her. He looked from her pale green shirt to the jade figurine and back again. "It looks good on you," he said.

"Thanks."

His hand was still on the figurine.

"There's a story behind it," he told her, looking down at the jade frog. "Maybe tonight you'll get to hear it."

She came over and stood beside him. "I once said I don't ask questions."

He turned his face up and looked her in the eye. "It has to end somewhere," he told her. "It doesn't go beyond a certain point."

"I know," she said quietly.

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Why green?"

She looked at him for a long moment, tilted her head to the side, and then shrugged. "It goes with you."

* * *

Kat had put candles leading from the garden gate to the front door. The Hillard house hadn't changed much, though the bushes had grown. Rocky came out to meet them, and following close behind him –

"Aisha!"

"You didn't think I'd miss this, did you?"

He hadn't seen Aisha in years. He'd forgotten how much he missed her – how much he'd missed the three of them together like they grew up. For fifteen, maybe twenty seconds he was home; then he reached for Jamie's hand, holding tightly.

Jamie squeezed back just as hard as they walked into the house and the whole party turned on them with cheers and smiles and slaps on the back. They couldn't keep holding hands under the tidal wave of welcome but he stayed as close to her as he could, and he wasn't sure which of them he was trying to comfort.

Thank goodness for Kat's easy charm and Jamie's instinctive high-society manners.

Then he spotted Tanya. Kat positioned herself between them, and there was wariness behind her smile. Rocky was less subtle, standing behind Adam with a frown on his face.

"Hey, Adam."

"Hey, Tanya."

Pause.

"You look good," she said awkwardly. "Whatever you've been doing, it agrees with you."

"Thanks," he answered. He was still breaking Jamie's fingers, but her grip was not as strong, now. "Heard one of your songs," he said. His cheeks were burning. "You sound real great."

"Thanks," she said.

He wasn't sure how to interpret that expression.

"You know I wrote it just After, right?" she said abruptly. "I mean – it's not like – "

"I'm sorry," he said, quickly, before she could get anything else in. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth."

That was a look he could interpret, and later he'd breathe a little easier for it. "I know," she said quietly. "I understand. For what it's worth."

Jamie was looking between them, and Adam forced himself to meet her eyes. She could tell how much was not being said, he was pretty sure of that._ I'm sorry,_ he thought at her.

"Come on, Tanya," said Kat abruptly. "I could use a hand in the kitchen. Or you could join Kim's little improvised press party. She could use a rescue."

"Nah, I think she's enjoying it. What do you need done?"

"Hey," called Tommy from the buffet table. "You two want a drink?"

Jason was standing right next to him, arms crossed. Adam, who knew an interview panel when he saw one, sighed and dragged Jamie over.

* * *

By the time they made it to dessert and moved the party to the back yard, Adam was grateful for the two bottles of white wine Kat and Jason had stashed in the fridge. Tommy protested, of course, on the basis of everyone being underage. Between half the party informing him he was the only one who cared, Jason pointing out that between twelve people it was hardly a substantial amount and Kat's frown, though, he gave up.

When the last of the truffles had been consumed and Kat made the offering of coffee and a second dessert, Jason stopped her. Then he leaned forward in the garden chair. "All right, guys," he said, looking seriously at the circle. "I think we're all voting 'for'?"

"Or you wouldn't say it out loud, Jason," said Trini after a moment.

"Can't hurt to make sure," said Jason. "Especially as it's the first time we're doing this." He passed his eyes across the circle, looking for a nod or a "Yeah" or a different sign of approval from each of the Rangers. Then he looked at Adam. "Your stage," he said neutrally.

Adam looked down. The surreal nature of the situation finally caught up with him. He bit his lip and looked up again, meeting Jamie's eyes.

"Have you ever heard of Power Rangers?" he asked, hesitantly, after a few seconds.

"Yes," she answered after another pause. "Something California? And I think something with – " She made a face. "Aliens maybe? Wasn't that a TV show?"

There was a round of chuckles and snorts.

"Not exactly," said Adam.

"I'll go get my scrapbook," said Trini. "Hold on a moment."

She returned holding a stack of scrapbooks, not just one. She dragged her chair over to Adam and Jamie, sat down and opened the top one. The headlines looked up at them, the photos screaming.

"Not exactly a TV show," said Trini patiently, "Though I think we hoped it was. Not all of us knew what to do, when it started."

"You mean Jase was the only one who wasn't going to turn and run," said Kim wryly.

"Hey, at least none of _us_ complained about our _hair!_" objected Zack to the sound of general laughter.

Jamie took the scrapbook from Trini, flipped a few pages. She raised her eyes and blinked. "I don't understand."

"An alien force attempted to attack Earth," said Trini, gentle as always. "The Power Rangers – "

"I get that," interrupted Jamie impatiently. "What does that have to do with – "

"I'm a Power Ranger, Jamie. We all are."

She stared at him.

"Your zeonizer would still work," said Tommy quietly after a long moment.

Adam swallowed. Sitting was awkward, but he suspected that standing up would be even more so.

He brought down his arms. "Zeo Ranger four, green."

He demorphed again.

Oddly, Tanya was the one who picked up the narrative. "It's a pretty big secret," she said. "We're not supposed to tell. When people found out accidentally…"

"Or after being kidnapped by evil overlords," said Aisha dryly.

"Or after being kidnapped by evil overlords," agreed Tanya, "They were always sworn to silence. But we agreed on this for Adam, because some things just don't make sense otherwise."

"We were together as Rangers," said Adam quietly, "And for almost a year afterwards. Then…"

"Everybody runs," said Kim, matter-of-factly. "Some of us need to total a relationship before figuring out who we are, except for Rangers."

This prompted a round of painful laughter.

"Oh, god, yes," said Tanya. "Adam wasn't very classy about it but he was better than you, definitely. A letter!"

"We're alltolder now and he'd always been wiser," said Kim.

"And it ended well," said Tommy. "Took a while, but…" He smiled tenderly at Kat.

Kat blushed and looked down at her hand, which was sporting a diamond ring that hadn't been there the year before.

Jamie was still staring at him. Then, abruptly, she got up, went inside, grabbed her keys and was out the door before Adam had so much as made it to the French doors leading from the yard to the house.

Tommy put his hand on Adam's shoulder. "That's a heck of a lot to think about, man," he said. "Give her time."

* * *

Kat brought out coffee and an apple pie, and they spent the first hour still in the yard. Kim was the first to leave, tiredness and some remaining jet lag. Billy left with her. Zack was next, then Trini and after her Tanya.

Another hour passed. Adam dragged a chair next to the window looking out to the road and Aisha brought a pot of tea, saying he'd had enough coffee. Rocky brought two more chairs.

Kat brought the second pot of tea. Aisha was about to get a third when Adam jumped to his feet. There were headlights coming down the street, and in the stillness of the late – or early – hour he could recognize the sound of an engine that was as familiar to him as his heartbeat.

Rocky shouted

There was a white Firebird drawing closer.

Adam ran out the door and was by the sidewalk before the Firebird pulled up in front of the house.

Rocky shouted for Tommy, Kat and Jason to get there.

Jamie left the headlights on when she got out of the car. Standing by the open door the four of them couldn't hear what was being said, but they could see lips moving, tense postures –

* * *

The roof was rolled down, which Jamie almost never did after nightfall. She jumped out of the car, leaving the key in the ignition and all, and she spoke so fast that he couldn't understand a word. She tried again and still spoke fast enough that his brain took a few seconds to separate the words.

"Willyoumarryme?"

When he did he laughed, barely daring to believe.

There hadn't been another half a second of fright. When he opened his arms she stepped right in, not complaining as he held her as close and as tightly as he could.

"Yes," he whispered as his tears fell into her hair. He dared open just enough distance to manage a kiss, then whispered again against her skin, "Yes."

* * *

"_I'm traveling in some vehicle  
Sitting in some café  
A defector from the petty wars  
Until love sucks me back that way"_


End file.
